Title: Here's to You and Your Lover Boy
Author: Michelle K. (CageyGrl@yahoo.com)
Fandom: The West Wing
Category: Donna/Amy. [implied] Josh/Donna, Sam/Donna, Josh/Sam, Josh/male.
Challenge: drabble_me week #4: "This is going to hurt."
Spoilers: through "Commencement"-ish
Word Count: 834
Summary: Leave bruises. Leave her behind.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Title from Damien Rice.
Here's to You and Your Lover Boy by Michelle K.
This is going to hurt.
For one more than the other.
You glance around the hall, wondering if there's a special section for people who've fucked both the bride and the groom. If there is such a place, Sam would be a part of it, so it's next to him you sit.
"Didn't expect to see you here," you say.
"I thought the same about you," he replies.
"I love to be witness to all great mistakes."
He grimaces as if he's had a whiff of something rotten. You don't blame him. "That's not a reason for attending a wedding."
"What's your reason?"
He seems flustered for a moment. "To celebrate with my friends."
You could point out that both of them seem to have largely forgotten his existence.
He moves away before you have the chance.
Glass is broken, and your lover is beaming at her new husband, who happens to be your ex-boyfriend.
It's Jerry Springer with better looking people.
After the bride and groom have had their requisite dance, Donna disappears. It's strange to you that no one else seems to notice. But, then again, everyone's busy getting drunk. And Josh is now busy with Will Bailey. Sam's busy pretending not to care.
And you're still fucking her. You're not sure if the same could be said for Josh.
Someone should go look for her.
You find her outside, leaning against the building in her perfect dress. You have to clear your throat for her to turn her head to you. Her face wears no expression.
"You look pretty," you tell her. The white suits her. It accentuates her natural innocence.
"Thank you." She pauses. "I didn't expect you to come."
"Seems like nobody did. I wasn't even sure you were going to show up." You've hit a sore spot. You keep going. "Is it true?" you ask her. Her face is blank. "About him and Billy boy." Still no recognition. "Sam's successor."
With that, her face goes as white as her dress. "Who told you?"
"I heard it around. After you postponed the wedding." You want to tell her that you knew this would happen. But her knowledge of Josh is the one area in which she feels superior. She might as well have that.
He's all she has now.
"I guess I shouldn't underestimate the power of rumor." She looks down. "Couldn't hold it against him. Considering."
"Does he know about..." You can't say 'us' -- that would imply a connection.
You raise an eyebrow. "Why? So it'll be easier to hold his indiscretions over his head?"
"I don't do that," she huffs.
You roll your eyes. "Because you get him, I suppose?"
A tiny, bitter grin. "You...you really don't understand anything, do you? You don't know anything about my relationship with Josh. You don't know him. You don't know me."
"I know plenty of things," you reply. "That you don't have a backbone where he's concerned. That you let him walk all over you--"
"So, it'd be better if I treated him like crap? Because it didn't seem to work out for you."
The turn into angry rivals is complete. This, after all, is what you do: fuck each other even when you're not having sex.
"I'm not the one in a futureless marriage," you mutter. "So I would say I did pretty good in the end."
Her composure's back. You can't stand it.
So, you do what you do best when it comes to her.
You decide to fuck her.
You're not surprised when she doesn't resist your kiss; when she leads you to the back room where she gave herself some last minute primping before the reception.
"This is the last time," she says.
You've heard that before. You believe it only because it's now something you wish to adhere to.
She sits back on a chair and lifts up her wedding dress. You slide to your knees, fingering the garter on her thigh before inching higher. You pull her to edge of the chair, push aside the tiny panties. You know how to use your tongue to get her off. You know that in her elation, she won't care how deep you dig your fingernails into her skin.
Pink. Soon: Purple. Blue. Black.
You want her to have to explain the marks. You want him to know, to think about the two of you together while he's fucking her, or even fucking him.
She comes. There's a little blood coming out of one of the indentations in her skin.
She doesn't seem to notice.
She fucks you against a wall. You push her away after you come. "I should go," you say. There is no goodbye kiss.
On your way past him, you look at Josh. He doesn't notice you. On your final glance back, he's not looking at his newly returned bride, either.
This is going to be worse for her in the end.
You won't get to see it.
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