Title: Driving Sideways
Author: Michelle K. (CageyGrl@yahoo.com)
Site: http://glimmershine.tripod.com
Archive: List archives. Others, ask.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Donna/Amy
Summary: "You're where you don't belong." (post-ep for 'College Kids.')
Disclaimer: Characters are Aaron's. Title and summary are Aimee Mann's. Don't sue.

*

Driving Sideways by Michelle K.

Donna notices Josh's eyes travel away from her face, notices his lips curl into a small smile. "Excuse me," he mutters. She follows his eyes, locks her stare on the source of his elation: Amy.

Josh walks away without another word, walks up to *her* and all Donna can think about is the way she tastes. About that chance meeting in a bar just a few days after Amy was officially unemployed and no longer Josh's girlfriend. About meeting her afterwards, not leaving it to chance, and Amy's hand sliding up her leg. About waking up after each night with her wanting to stop it once and for all, but not being able to.

Now, she doesn't think she wants it to stop, but it doesn't feel right to let it keep happening.

It doesn't feel right to watch them, to feel pleased when Josh walks away and Amy's left with dejection etched on her features.

It doesn't feel right to walk towards her, but she does it all anyway.

*

Amy still feels the sting of Josh's rejection; he's been rejecting her for months, really. This is just the latest, and there will probably be more in the future.

She'd hate him if she didn't almost love him.

"Hey."

Amy snaps out of her reverie to see Donna staring at her. Donna, Josh's pretty assistant.

She'd be jealous if she weren't sleeping with her.

"Hey," Amy returns. The words, 'I miss you,' almost fall from her lips, but she doesn't really believe them. There hasn't been enough downtime to miss Donna, and she doesn't really need her. She just kinda wants her. "I didn't know you were gonna be here."

"And I didn't know you were gonna be here. So, I guess we're even." She smiles; in another moment, the grin's gone. "Are you alright?"

Amy can't tell if the concern's genuine, but she pretends it is. "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

Donna shrugs, as if she's afraid to utter Josh's name in this context. "I don't know."

*

But she does know. Amy wants Josh, Josh walked away, and now both of them are alone together in this club. Just like they've been alone together in Amy's apartment. 'It's not about Josh,' she's been assured in hushed tones, but she's ceased believing Amy's words.

Donna wonders what *she* wants, and it's all infuriatingly muddled.

"I'm fine. Really," Amy asserts.

"Okay," Donna says. "Good." She smiles, and Amy smiles back.

*

She thinks about kissing Donna in front of all these people, of Josh's shocked countenance. Then, she just thinks of Donna shuddering around her fingers.

Because, really, she does like being with her. She just likes what she represents more.

"Come somewhere with me," she says.

"Where?" Donna asks.

"Just come." She turns and, although she doesn't look back, she knows Donna is following.

*

She follows her into the bathroom, into the stall, acquiesces to Amy's lips on hers.

"Here?" she says, voice tiny.

"Why not?" Amy returns with a grin that's not quite genuine.

"Because."

"That's not a good enough reason," Amy replies before planting her lips on Donna's neck.

She hears Aimee Mann singing in the background, pleading for someone to save her, and Donna wonders if she's entirely lost. If she'll always be this semi-cold fool waiting for this woman to *touch* her, *want* her, *choose* her. She wonders what would happen if she was chosen, if she'd care about the hurt feelings of Josh, this man who might've been her great love in some alternate universe, but as it stands is some brotherly figure who periodically steals glances down her blouse.

Amy slides her tongue into Donna's mouth forcefully. She can't breathe for a moment, and she knows for certain that she's entirely hopeless. No one will ever sweep her up and make everything okay.

She doesn't really care.

Donna groans, slides her hands up Amy's tiny tank top. She cups breasts that fit perfectly in her hands, thinks about how many times such an act has been written about in flowery prose, how many authors used this as a way to show two people were meant to be together. But she knows Amy's breasts weren't made for her, and she knows they aren't going to be together forever. She ponders how Josh's hands fit over these breasts, then shakes away the thought.

Donna rolls her thumbs over her nipples, teasing them into hardness. Amy curses softly when she squeezes, slides a knee in-between Donna's legs, making Donna curse in return.

Donna hears a group of women enter the bathroom, giggling and talking. Probably some college kids, a bunch of strangers in the crowd, but Donna freezes anyway.

"Amy," she says warily.

"They don't care what we're doing," Amy replies nonchalantly.

"But--" Amy kisses her again, pushes her knee hard against the other's sex, and Donna remembers again how off-course she is. But she still doesn't care, doesn't mind that a bunch of girls are going to hear her fuck her boss's sorta girlfriend, doesn't worry that her foot is awkwardly resting on a toilet seat. "God," she gasps, grinding herself against Amy's leg.

Silence from the outside, then an outburst of nervous cackling and a few whispering voices.

Donna fumbles with Amy's belt; moves even closer; tries to drown out all the sound except their labored breathing. "Stop," she says, and Amy pulls her knee away.

Donna takes control of the situation, undoing her jeans, sliding the zipper down and pushing the garment past her hips enough to slip her hand inside. Amy looks satisfied, leans back against the wall as she arches herself towards Donna's hand.

She slides two fingers inside, feeling warmth and wetness. Her hand moves awkwardly and a tad too forcefully, but she still makes Amy come. A moment of satisfaction, then a moment of pain as she remembers exactly what's happening.

She pulls Amy towards her, mutters, "Kiss me," and Amy does, hard and deep.

*

Donna responds to the kiss, even though Amy suspects she isn't totally there. But this isn't about deep connections anyway. It wasn't supposed to be, and it never will.

"I think they're gone," Donna says, and it takes a moment to remember that other people were in the room.

"Does it matter?" Amy retorts.

"Guess not," Donna shrugs before kissing her again. "Fuck me," she mutters, and it sounds more lifeless, and yet more pleading, than her request for a kiss.

Amy could think about this, worry about how they're breaking each other, maybe breaking *him* in the process, but this is just sex. This means nothing.

She slips her hand between Donna's legs, rocking her palm against the layer of clothing. Slowly, she moves her hand, undoing Donna's pants in the same way she had undone hers. She feels silk against the back of her hand as she slips her fingers towards the apex of her sex.

"God," Donna groans, and Amy wonders how many times she can invoke the name of a possibly nonexistent deity. "Don't stop."

Amy hates when she says that - when anyone says it. Why would she start something if she didn't intend on finishing? Instead of speaking, she nibbles on an exposed bit of Donna's chest as she lightly pinches her clit. She begins to move the tiny bundle of nerves in circles as she brushes her lips against Donna's skin, making her way back to her cheek. The other woman's breath is heavy against her skin, becoming faster with the motion of her hand.

She watches Donna's face when she climaxes, notices the way she closes her eyes and bites her lip, and listens to the loud moan that escapes anyway. Donna kisses her tenderly and, for a moment, it does feel like something other than what it is. But, in the next moment, it all seems pointless.

They rearrange their clothes in an almost businesslike manner, bodies disentangled and mouths apart. They exit the stall calmly, not paying much attention to a girl applying makeup who's still managing to eye them suspiciously. Amy smirks at her in the reflection; the girl quickly fixes her eyes on herself.

Donna's still washing her hands after Amy's already made hers clean. She seems to have an obsession with purifying after sex; if this were either of their apartments, she'd be in the shower for ten minutes. But this is a public bathroom, so it's a sink and strange smelling liquid soap. She wants to tell her that there's no reason for guilt; but it would be a lie. And it would be admitting that she cares how Donna feels about this.

And she doesn't. Not really.

*

When she turns off the water, Amy's still watching her. Her eyes are penetrating, and her arms are crossed when she drops, "Are you sure your hands are clean?"

Donna shrugs, and Amy smiles that same dull smile. She wonders if she's more lively with Josh; again, she chides herself for thinking about *him.* She hates the guilt; part of her hates him, blames him, even though none of this is his fault.

It's her own fault.

"I should get going," she says, wiping her hands dry with rough brown paper. "We probably won't be here for much longer, and I don't want to be left behind again, so--"

"Yeah."

"I should go."

"Sure."

Donna leaves without a backward glance. When she gets back to the bar, Josh is gone. She doesn't search for him; she wouldn't be able to look him in the eye right now.

She glances out into the crowd, watches Amy move amongst her fellow patrons. She seems as lost as Donna feels, and maybe that means something.

But really, it means nothing, and Donna still doesn't care.

THE END

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