Title: Fair Trade
Characters: Tenth Doctor/Donna
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Rating/Warnings: R for sex and angst.
Status: Incomplete 3/4
Summary: The Doctor kisses Donna one day after supper. Donna acquiesces.
Author's note: It's not really finished but I wanted to publish what I had for poor dtstrainers, who has been... I have no words for it. She has been a cheerleader and a beggar and (dare i say it?) a fan and frankly, I get a bit teary-eyed when I think about her words about my writing. I've done the same for other writers but I never imagined that someone would like mine enough to remind me and encourage me to write. I don't really see myself as a writer at all, really... Or... I write a little, but I don't really have a talent for it, if you see what I mean?
So dear, dear woman, thanks. I hope this helps a little bit, until I can finish this and get to the happy ending and the good sex.
They sit in silence. Donna feels weary and a little sick, as if she has done some great feat that has drained her of all energy. Something like lifting a car off a child, or some other nonsense.
The Doctor looks pensive, his expressive brows drawn low over his eyes. He fiddles with a pen left on the table from their last crossword puzzle session, taking off the lid and putting it back over and over again. He clears his throat a few times, but says nothing.
Donna considers breaking the silence, but she is just so tired, of being the first to speak, of always asking for others’ health, or caring. Of always being the responsible one in every relationship she has always been in. All problems are her fault, always, never the other one’s.
She is weary. Donna just wants to… She can’t even put it into words for herself, that indefinable longing to be understood.
And then the Doctor speaks:
“Penny for your thoughts?”
And the dam breaks, and Donna is talking, words pouring out of her.
“I… It’s… I hate when you don’t do the dishes!” and the Doctor looks at her, baffled. This was obviously not what he expected her to say. He remains quiet however.
“In every relationship I’ve ever been in, I’ve always taken care of… Of everything! I’ve done the dishes, the laundry, cleaned, cooked, everything that I’m supposed to do. And I hate it. I loathe it, housework! And I’ve always had to do it all. And I’m tired of it. I don’t want to do it anymore. I just… “
The weariness overwhelms her, and she feels as if the air has turned to custard, making all her movements sluggish.
“I just… It’s always my fault when it ends. I’d get annoyed and start nagging and he would get tired of me. And I’ve always understood. It’s always made sense. But I can’t help thinking it’s…All of this,” she makes a gesture encompassing the entire room, the entire world. “it’s not fair. Why couldn’t they just do the bloody dishes so I wouldn’t have had to nag? Is that too much too ask?!”
The Doctor looks like he wants to answer, but he doesn’t have time before Donna continues speaking.
“And sometimes… I just wanted to know they cared. To have them remember my mother’s birthday. To not have to… Do all the work. All the caring.”
“I don’t want to be the only one caring,” Donna whispers. “I quit. I give up. I don’t want to manage any more.”
She giggles, suddenly, as an image pops up in her brain.
“I’ll get 17 cats and knit vests for Nerys’ children. “
“Hell, I’ll get a younger lover and use him and leave him. A boytoy.” And she continues to giggle, until the giggles turn into sobs.
The Doctor still says nothing, but his eyes are intent on her, as if he listens with his entire being and will continue to do so until she has said her piece.
“I’m not made for sex, did you know? I think there’s something wrong with me. I’ve never really… Y’know. Not ever. Almost 40, isn’t it pathetic? I’ve never really believed that women and men could be friends and then I met you, and I thought, but then you… “
She heaves a great sigh.
“I know I’m not much to look at, but I guess you didn’t really have that much choice. What’s the saying? Anything with legs and tits?”
Donna’s lips quirk in an ironic smile.
“Don’t worry, I’m not expecting a declaration of eternal devotion. I understand it was nothing. Well, less than nothing, I guess, since I couldn’t even get you off properly. We can just forget about it, move about our day. Let’s just do that., yeah?“ The hopeful note in her voice makes the Doctor’s hearts clench in his chest.
“Donna… “ he tries and has to clear his throat before he can continue. “Donna, I don’t want to forget about it."
This keeps being a feminist treatise. I guess I had to get it out somehow.