Title: When She Wonders
Author: Michelle K. (CageyGrl@yahoo.com)
Archive: Lists. Others, ask.
Summary: It's always these moments that cause the most doubt.
Disclaimer: Characters are Aaron's, NBC's, etc. I'm making no money. Don't sue.
Notes: So, I've been trying to write Abbey fic for a while, but it never came together until *this,* a story that started as a 500-word vignette and became something bigger. Also, props to Julian for doing this pairing first, and doing it damn well.
When She Wonders by Michelle K.
When Donna waits for Abbey, she doesn't pay attention to time -- not the specifics, anyway, like watching the clock tick away seconds. It will give her no new information. But she's aware of the moments passing, of the fact that she's alone. She wonders how long it'll be, if Abbey's been tied up, if she's going to come at all.
She always does; Donna comforts herself with that knowledge.
When Abbey enters the room, her heart skips a beat, then pumps increasingly faster. She wonders why that happens every time.
"Abbey. Hi," she says, relishing the fact that she doesn't have to use any titles now.
When Abbey looks at her, she can't help but smile. She wonders why Abbey's grin seems so weak in return.
"Donna. I'm glad you could come."
"Don't I always?" It sounds more bitter than she intended, but Abbey doesn't seem to hold it against her. She shakes her head, says lighter, "I mean, I wanted to see you." She runs a hand over her skirt, smoothing out an invisible wrinkle. "I..." She shrugs away the idea of saying 'missed you'; she doesn't want to seem too needy. "Forget it."
Abbey looks like she's going to say something, but seems to mentally dismiss it before a syllable escapes her lips. She crosses to her, but Donna meets her halfway.
They're close enough to kiss, but they don't. Donna can feel Abbey's hand hovering over her shoulder.
When Abbey touches her, her body aches with a pain that seems to reside deep within her bones. She wonders when she started associating agony with Abbey's fingers.
Abbey brushes her lips against Donna's, runs her fingers over her back. Suddenly, she backs away. Abbey seems almost businesslike; Donna knows this is anything but formal.
She also knows that Abbey wants to be efficient, even in this.
When Abbey undresses, she silently follows. She watches Abbey's fingers undo her own blouse, feels the metal of her own zipper. She wonders why they don't undress each other anymore.
Donna reaches out to her, pulling Abbey towards her as she walks backwards.
When they find their way to the bed, Abbey ends up on top. The feel of skin on skin causes a rush inside her, one she can't control. She wonders why her gasp isn't echoed.
"Don't move," Abbey says as she moves to rest on her side.
Donna complies, staying where she is as one of Abbey's hands explores her skin.
When Abbey kisses her, she doesn't want it to end. She wonders why Abbey pulls away.
She lets it happen all the same.
When Abbey slides a hand up her thigh, she opens her legs wide. She wonders why they never talk anymore.
But maybe they don't need to talk, because *God,* her fingers feel so good, and *Christ* her thumb is moving in circles, and *Lord* is this all there is?
Yes, definitely, most certainly, and--
"Don't stop. Right there."
When Abbey makes her come, her body tenses, then shakes. She wonders if she should feel guiltier.
But Abbey doesn't feel like a married woman when they kiss, slick fingers resting on Donna's hip. If this is wrong, and this is all there is--
Then Donna really doesn't want to think about that now.
When she rolls on top of Abbey, she feels Abbey's fingers gripping her back, Abbey's mouth on her neck. She wonders if this is the closest that they'll get to saying 'I love you.'
Then Abbey's running her fingers over Donna's back, and she thinks 'maybe this is love,' or maybe it isn't love at all, but, *God* does she want it to be. Mouths part, and they're both breathless. For a moment, she rests her head on Abbey's chest, listening to the sound of her heart. Accelerated but consistent, a symbol of love, but not really -- because, after all, Abbey would never be this excited from handholding.
"Abbey," she sighs. She repeats the name, reminding herself that they are completely alone, that for a moment she has this woman all to herself. Says it again as she turns her head, brushing her lips against the valley between her breasts. Again as she licks her way to the center, again as she swirls her tongue around a nipple. She releases the tiny nub, eyes locking with Abbey's searing gaze. She says nothing.
When she's kissing Abbey's stomach, Abbey sighs softly, like she's either without tension or horribly full of it. She wonders how guilty Abbey feels.
Does she apologize to him in ways he doesn't see? Is she sickened by herself? Will she call this off tomorrow to save her soul?
Could Donna live with such a decision?
When she pushes her tongue inside Abbey, she revels in the way she moans. She wonders if she cries that way for her husband.
Donna shakes away the thoughts; she doesn't want to think about him. Not now, when Abbey tastes so good, when her skin is like silk under the palms of her stroking hands.
She can't think about him; then, she'd definitely feel a lot worse about this.
When Abbey's fingers tangle in her hair, she increases the pressure her mouth is creating. "Don't stop," Abbey says, and she doesn't. She wonders if Abbey is trying to control her; she wonders why that concept doesn't bother her.
"Donna," she utters, grip tightening, hips arching.
Donna says Abbey's name again, then scrapes her top teeth against the nub that's right on the tip of her tongue.
When Abbey comes, she feels a moment of elation. She wonders why it doesn't last longer.
Abbey's fingers release her. Tangled follicles obscure Donna's vision, so she pushes them back. Abbey's face still isn't all that clear, but she can still hear her, taste her, feel her. That, somehow, is enough.
"Did you like that?" she says, just to hear her own voice, just to fill the room with something other than labored breathing. Just to remind herself this is all real.
"Yes," Abbey says.
When she rests her head on Abbey's stomach, she feels like there are a million different things swirling around her. She wonders why even this moment can't be peaceful.
Abbey's fingers move to Donna's hair again, but the touch is decidedly gentle this time as she brushes wisps of blond away from Donna's cheek. She shifts, moving her body up Abbey's a little, until her chin is just above Abbey's belly button. She exhales, smiling softly at the other woman.
Abbey moves her hands to Donna's cheeks, cupping her face. Donna's smile widens as she crawls the rest of the way to Abbey's mouth, hungrily bringing their lips together. The kiss is messy, uneven, and one of the most satisfying kisses Donna has ever received; but, really, that's true of all the times their lips have met.
When Donna pulls away, Abbey seems to be in another world. She wonders if Abbey wants to do this anymore.
But she can't wonder about that, no. She can't think of Abbey discarding her.
She rolls over onto her side, watching Abbey's inscrutable features.
When she asks, "When will he be back?" she gets Abbey's attention. She wonders if Abbey's angry she brought it up.
For a moment, she thinks Abbey didn't even hear her.
"I said--" Donna begins, but she's cut off by a wave of Abbey's hand.
When Abbey says, "You know" in a defensive voice, she knows she's upset her. She also knows that Abbey schedules these 'meetings' in the middle of his trips; she knows that he'll be miles away for another thirty-seven hours. She knows exactly when Abbey will call for her. She wonders why she never says no.
She reaches out to Abbey tentatively, brushing her fingers against the other's forehead. "Abbey. Abbey, please." She moves her fingers downward to Abbey's cheek. She wants Abbey to lean towards her fingers, kiss her palm.
"Please what?" Abbey snaps. "You work here, you know how long he's going to be gone."
"I know." She bites her lip, pulls her hand away from Abbey's face.
Abbey sighs, looks as if she's going to say something. Her forehead crinkles; she stays silent.
When she mutters, "I'm sorry," Abbey lightens, says, "It's not your fault." She wonders why Abbey's acceptance makes her feel whole.
"This isn't easy for me, you know," Donna says. She doesn't want pity, per say. "I just...I...I really am sorry."
Abbey nods. "I know."
She rests her head on Abbey's shoulder, stays there until she knows their time is really up.
When she says, "I should go," Abbey doesn't stop her. She wonders why Abbey never asks her to stay, why she always wants her to.
She locates her clothes, noticing that Abbey's still looking at her. For that reason, she dresses slowly.
When she's dressed, she kisses Abbey. She wonders why Abbey doesn't kiss back.
"That was nice," Donna mutters against Abbey's cheek. "Don't hesitate to call me."
Donna smiles. "I am irresistible."
Abbey smiles back.
"I guess I really should go now," Donna says, getting up.
When she leaves, she doesn't say goodbye. She wonders why she imagines that changes something.
It's not like she can guarantee that they will continue on.
How could she ever?
When she closes the door behind her, she misses Abbey instantly. She lets the Secret Service agents stare at her, greets them politely. She wonders if they know more than their stony faces give away.
They probably judge her, think of her as a whore, think of her as less than nothing.
But she can't let that bother her. She can't let herself think such things.
When she gets home, she curls up in her empty bed. She wonders why she does this to herself.
She wonders why she needs Abbey so much, why she lets herself forget that she's Mrs. Bartlet. Why she doesn't just break it off with her once and for all.
She knows why: she loves her, even if it's wrong and pointless. She loves her more than anything.
When she closes her eyes, she thinks of Abbey. Her smile, her laugh, her voice, her humor, her intelligence, the taste of her thighs. Everything about Abbey haunts her mind. She wonders if that'll ever change.
She wonders why she doesn't want it to.
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