Title: Something I Can't Fix
Author: Michelle K. (CageyGrl@yahoo.com)
Pairings: Donna/Karen Cahill, Donna/Ann Stark, Donna/Amy.
Summary: What she thinks she deserves.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.
Notes: written for the Wing Swing. Beta thanks go to writerpuppy and Yana.
Something I Can't Fix by Michelle K.
It's called protesting too much.
It's why she asks people to tell Karen Cahill she wasn't making a pass at her. People she knows will never say yes -- because God, if they did, Karen would smirk, and they'd *know.*
(And they can't know.)
It happened in the back of Karen's chauffeured car. The windows were tinted black, so Donna had no fear of letting the other woman's tongue into her mouth. Karen liked her, Karen was charmed, and Karen made her feel special (for a few minutes), so she still wasn't afraid when Karen slid her hand into her pants.
She broke away for a moment, nodding at the partition. "He can't see us, right?"
"Can he hear us?"
"Not if you're quiet."
Donna raised her hips as Karen tugged at the waist of her pants. She heard Karen mutter something against her neck, but all she made out was "fuck." She shuddered. Her pants fell to the floor, then her panties. She spread her legs as wide as she could without kicking something. She bit her lip to keep from crying out as Karen fucked her with two fingers and a swirling thumb. When their places were switched, Karen ended her moans with a laugh, which Donna didn't appreciate. But she wasn't doing anything wrong, Karen told her.
"Don't want to be too silent."
Donna smiled. "So if I do this right, your driver will think I'm hysterical instead of mildly witty?"
"And you want Tom to think well of you, don't you?"
"Naturally." She giggled with Karen as she moved forward, pushing her fingers in deeper. She slid her thumb until she found Karen's clit, pressing down as she kissed her. She swallowed a laugh. "If you laugh too much, he might think you're laughing at me, not with me." She sighed dramatically. "That would be tragic."
(It was a game, and Donna was really being laughed at.)
Afterwards, Karen slid Donna's panties into her pocket. "Something to hold me over until I see you again," she said.
But Karen never came looking for her, choosing to say goodbye with a package addressed to Josh. At least Karen included a lie of a note, allowing Donna's humiliation to remain mostly private.
(She needs something to cling to. That may make her more pathetic.)
She can't do something like that ever again.
(But she will.)
When Donna first started sleeping with women, it was under the impression that it was sweeter and softer. That women cared about how you felt and what you needed.
(She convinced herself that it was this fantasy she wanted, and not the sex.)
But she didn't stop after she realized that women could be just as callous as men, weren't above using someone for there own needs. Of course, she hated herself for the gratuitous show of naivete, hated that she had yet to sleep with anybody she could trust. She hated it, but she just moved on.
(It was all she could do.)
Ann Stark isn't to be trusted. She screwed Toby over and, apparently, that's all someone in Donna's position needs to know.
Ann Stark isn't to be trusted, so Donna doesn't feel relaxed when she slips into the other side of the booth.
Without preamble, she says, "I've seen you before."
"I've been to this bar before."
"No. Not here. You work at the White House."
"If you knew, then why'd you ask?"
Ann shakes her head. "Didn't. It was a statement."
Donna nods. "I'm Josh Lyman's assistant." She inhales. "Is there something you want?"
"I wanted to pick you up. Thought the fact that I've seen you before would be a good in."
Donna recoils. "Um...."
She can't figure out Ann's angle. Rumor says that she likes lovers who are as strong as she is. Toby. CJ. But rumor has Donna pegged as ditz, not dyke. Maybe Ann prefers going to bed with those that she can control.
(If so, she's picked right.)
"I'm not really looking for that tonight." Karen had been more than enough in the casual sex department.
Ann glances around. "That's why you're sitting in a back booth."
"That's why I'm sitting in a back booth."
Ann raises an eyebrow. "So, this is a drown-your-sorrows situation?" Donna nods. "I used to go drinking with Toby Ziegler and trust me, it isn't fun. My name's Ann, by the way."
"I know." And I'm not supposed to talk to you. "I'm Donna."
"So, Donna. You want to be picked up?"
Donna hesitates. "How bout I give you a few minutes and see how it goes."
(She pretends there's a chance she won't end up whispering, "Yes.")
Donna moves her hands up and down Ann's back as she writhes on the other woman's sheets. She knows she shouldn't be running from one ill-advised one-night stand to another. She wonders if she'll last with Ann for more than a night, if humiliation is again imminent.
Ann leans closer as she moves her hand faster, whispering words that make Donna's heated flesh turn a deeper shade of red. She comes.
Ann pulls away and flips her hair over her shoulder. "Your turn."
"What do you want me to do?"
Ann laughs. "I know this isn't your first time."
Donna frowns. "I thought you'd want me to ask." She doesn't know if it's pity or confusion on Ann's face -- she imagines not even her friends have her figured out -- but at least she's not laughing. She relaxes a little.
Ann shrugs. "Didn't mind it." She lies back. "But I'd just rather tell you when you're doing something wrong."
"Another finger. Faster. Harder. Suck."
Donna obeys every word until she's drenched and sticky, until Ann's shuddering around her. Ann praises her with false warmth and true condescension, the way one would an unlikable child.
(She often feels like one.)
Afterwards, Ann takes a shower. Donna gets dressed. She finds her panties after she's already buttoned her pants and pushes them to the bottom of her purse. She scribbles her first name and phone number on a pad by the telephone.
She hopes that Ann never calls.
But Ann does call two weeks later. Donna blows off Margaret's dinner invitation with an excuse about being too tired. Ann doesn't answer the door right away. "On the phone," she says when she does open the door, wearing only a silk bathrobe.
Donna closes her eyes for a moment, imagining Ann barking into the receiver, making demands and deals that Donna will never really know about. She kisses Ann when her eyes flutter open. Ann relents surprisingly easily to the small move of domination, opening her mouth to Donna's probing tongue. Her hands thread through Donna's hair. The touch is only gentle for a moment, and soon Ann is kissing her back with a force that makes it hard to breathe.
They fuck on the floor, and for days afterwards Donna finds herself running her fingers over the bruises the wood floor left on her knees. As if on cue, Ann calls her again after the bruises have faded.
Margaret observes that it's not right for Donna to let the people she loves treat her badly. She's talking about Josh, and Donna knows what she means. But she doesn't love Josh in a way that consumes her, though others believe she does.
She loves no one in a way that consumes her.
(She wants to ask Margaret if it's all right to let people you don't love treat you badly as long as the sex is good. She remains silent.)
She goes home and waits for Ann to call.
Her lips are closed around Ann's nipple when her cell rings. Ann doesn't sigh with disappointment when Donna retreats to her handbag; they are used to interruptions.
"It's Josh," she says before retreating to the bathroom. She leans on the sink and answers the phone, readying herself for bad news. But, no, it's nothing -- "Sam and I are so drunk," and "You want to come out and make sure we don't do something stupid?" She refuses, not mentioning she's busy doing something stupid.
When she returns to bed, Ann's sitting in the same place, legs spread wider. She swallows. "It was nothing."
Ann smiles. "I think it's cute that you think your boss could tell you anything that I'd want to hear."
She hears the implications, feels the insult, but doesn't walk out.
(Her lack of backbone no longer surprises her.)
"I'm sleeping with the enemy."
"You're the enemy, and I am sleeping with you."
"Are you going to be quiet?"
Donna shakes her head, smiling. She's drunk, and she wants to pretend that she and Ann have the sort of relationship where joking is the norm. "Though I guess what we do isn't really sleeping."
"I shouldn't give you straight vodka anymore," Ann says. "You get crazy."
"I already am crazy. Like a fox. I never really understood that phrase, honestly--"
Ann snatches the glass from her hand and straddles her. She downs the drink and licks her lips. Sliding a hand down Donna's stomach, she says, "Are you going to be quiet?"
"Am I ever?" she asks, and Ann's smile seems genuine.
It's no surprise when Ann stops calling. Donna never imagined a promise between them. But there's still a sting.
(And a voice that says, "You will never have more than this.")
And she won't. She'll have a few boyfriends, and more than a few girlfriends. She'll tell herself she's got to stop falling for the same tricks.
Then, she'll let Amy Gardner into her bed. After a few months, she'll believe Amy loves her. She'll never know if it was something that she imagined.
But Amy will leave her.
(She'll always remember catching Josh and Amy fucking in his office. Listening to Amy whisper, "This isn't working, right?" on her voicemail. Imagining that it was recorded in Josh's bedroom.)
She'll cross paths with Ann Stark four years after their affair and Ann won't even remember her name. When Donna finds someone who does need her -- another older woman, but one who's past her prime and off the prowl -- she won't believe that she isn't seconds away from being abandoned. (And maybe she will be.)
Eventually she'll start to think, "You don't deserve more than this."
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