Disclaimer: I don't own That '70s Show. Wow, I almost typed "I don't know That '70s Show." Anyways this takes place sometime in Season 4, but it's not a "missing scene."
Rated T for Suggestive Themes, and Language
Except Now They Watch CHiPs
Donna made her way over to the Forman's. Ever since she and Eric had broken up, it had been a little awkward, but now they were both moving on. Or, at least that's what she told herself. As she passed the old and not-so-trusty Vista Cruiser on the driveway, she paused. She stared at the station wagon for a bit before wondering aloud, "What happened to the Corvette?"
"Dad's driving it around town, honking at hippies."
She jumped, startled by the voice. It belonged to her ex-boyfriend, approaching her from the backyard and wearing a very arrogant look on his pale face. And as soon as she laid her eyes upon him, a wave of some horrible smell came over her, causing her to choke, "E-Eric? What are you wearing?"
"Like it?" He smiled, leaning on the station wagon as he casually crossed his arms over his chest, "It's the scent of a man."
"More like the odor of a dirty gym sock." She retorted, wiping away the water from her itchy eyes.
Eric's eyes couldn't mask his hurt as his mouth lurched open, "Says you! According to the lady at the mall, this cologne drives all the women mad!"
"I know what she means," Donna coughed, "I'm going crazy with that stuff sneaking into my lungs! Geez, Eric! I think I'm gonna pass out right here!"
Eric knitted his eyebrows in anger, "You're over exaggerating!"
And as soon as he said it, a bird who happened to swoop too low, flew between the two of them and hit the Vista Cruiser's driver's door before falling on the cold cement floor- completely still.
Seeing this had Donna laughing while an embarrassed Eric defended himself, "My cologne didn't do that!" He then added softly, "I don't think birds can smell."
Donna calmed down her fit of giggles, smirking at Eric the way Laurie used to, "Poor-poor Eric Forman. Don't worry, I'm sure some sad sap will fall for you eventually."
Eric yelped, his cheeks reddening, "Well you should know! You fell for me!"
Donna lied, wanting to push his buttons, "At first I thought I loved you, now I see it was just a phase."
A red-faced Eric squealed in desperation, "You're LYING!"
Living without Donna by his side but knowing she had at one point cared for him was one thing, but living his life with the information that she had never loved him to begin with was something entirely different.
Donna was a second away from coolly saying, "No. I'm not." But, she caught sight of his bottom lip. It was trembling in that cute way of his it usually did when he was nervous or scared. And as much as she hated herself for it, she found it utterly adorable.
She couldn't slam him with another insult, well, not right away anyways….
She then took in a breath, admitting as she casted her eyes in another direction away from him, "You're right. I'm lying."
When she chanced a glance up at him, his breathing had returned to normal and he looked as if he had just recovered from a stroke. He tried to sound egotistical as he sneered, "Knew it. Never doubted it. All the ladies wanna piece of The Kid."
She told him in a very mature tone, "Eric, don't be an asshole. It's not a good look for you."
Her words seemed to catch him off guard as he shook his head, explaining, "I'm being cool, see? Chicks dig a fella who is self-confidant, witty and self-assured."
Before she could catch herself, Donna shrugged, "Maybe some chicks do- I don't."
Eric traced his finger on the outline of the Vista Cruiser, his mouth hanging to one side as he recalled, "Remember when we could just hang and not bitch at each other?"
"….yeah."
"I liked those days."
"Me too."
He then looked back up her earnestly, "Wanna watch Chips or something?"
"If you change your shirt that's embedded with that stink, I'll think it over." She smirked, a trace of her old fondness for him sinking through her features.
Eric switched around what she said cleverly, "If you say 'Yes', then I'll change my shirt and never wear this cologne again."
"Really?" She said slowly and playfully.
Eric nodded, "Yup, but I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it for the environment- the birds to be more specific."
Unexpectedly the bird jumped up from its spot in the driveway. After hopping around for a bit, it flapped its wings before taking off toward the direction of the High School.
Seeing this, Eric smiled, "I guess the little guy really liked the idea of me never wearing this cologne again." Hearing this had her laughing, "You're a moron."
"Yes. Yes, I am." Eric smiled, "So, you'll join me?"
Her response was her heading toward the basement. Over her shoulder she called out, "Hurry up and change, Foreplay. I'm waiting."
With a smile on his face, he made his way inside his home to change his shirt and hopefully his odor.
When she entered the basement, the first thing that hit her was the smell of incense. She knew Eric would take a while upstairs. He would run to the restroom, and do his best to make the stink of his new cologne go away. Then, when he felt he had accomplished that, he would run around his room, changing shirts at least three times, and eye himself in the mirror each of those times just make sure he looked good. He would claim he always did this, a claim she knew for a fact to be a lie. Then he would mess with his hair for at least five minutes, trying to remember which way she said she liked it once upon a time ago. Was it bangs to the left? No, bangs to the right? Was it just straight down? He would give himself an ulcer trying to figure it out. Then after applying the last touchups on himself, he would race downstairs and pretend he didn't put on the full-court press for an ex-girlfriend. He would lie, something he was never very good at, and claim he never even gave her a second thought while he redressed. Then it would be her turn to lie. She would claim she was too busy watching Chip's to notice he was taking too long. She would then insult him, thus breaking out her old defense mechanism to shield her feelings from him. After a few insults being thrown at one another, she'd accidently slip and make a comment about him that was supposed to sound negative but gave away her true feelings for him. The evening would either be capped off by two awkward farewells or the rest of the gang would pummel in the basement one by one, providing for an easy distraction.
She knew this drill by heart. It was killing her that she couldn't just break it. She wanted so much, on so many occasions, just to yank him somewhere private and have, as Fez put it, "a naughty fun time." But they had broken up. To have a "naughty fun time" with him was wrong. But when each passing day felt like an eternity without him, losing her mind felt more and more like a possibility. She was catching herself doing the weirdest things, things Fez would do. Things like buying the same fabric softener his mother uses just so she could lose herself in his aroma again. Things like reading her old diary entries of the two of them before this whole mess started, to the point the ends folded. Things like trying to spy on him from her bedroom window, checking to make sure he didn't have another woman up there or something. Things like telling herself Star Wars quotes just to fill in the blank in her heart. Things like tricking herself that they were still together just so she would have a reason to get out of bed in the mornings. So many things she couldn't keep track of anymore. And the worst part was that he was so close, and yet so far away.
Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard his feet trampling down the stairs. And yes, she knew him so well that she could even tell the sounds his feet made going up or down stairs. He favored his right leg a little more, so the stomping down the stairs always had a certain rhythm to it. And when he plopped himself down right next to her, she knew it was out of habit. He was always doing that, and a piece of her actually found it welcoming. If the others were around, for appearances sake, she would bark at him to "back off." But they weren't around, so she let him be two feet too close.
When she turned her head, she was greeted by those big, earnest eyes, begging her to compliment him. She resisted the urge, but noted that if they were together, she'd immediately throw her arms around him. She would tell him how sexy he looked, though he always looked sort of adorably nerdy. She would then kiss him anywhere she pleased, starting with those puckering lips-
"Donna?"
She shook her head, trying to snap out her head out of the clouds.
He started, "You keep staring at me…"
Her defense mechanism kicked in, "saving" her as she blurted, "I'm looking at your shirt. The one with the green 'zero', huh? It makes you look like a nerd." She didn't know what had gotten into her, but her personality always seemed to flip with him nowadays. One second she was nice, then the next she just wanted to scream at him. Were ex-girlfriends supposed to feel this way?
Her remark was greeted by stunned silence. Then he muttered darkly, "Yeah, well you dress like a guy."
Appalled she blinked, "What did you say?!"
He turned to face her off, saying more loudly in an obviously hurt tone, "I look like a nerd? Well you dress like a guy."
What was this? A challenge? If it was, she was accepting. Angrily, she pointed at his shoes, "Brown loafers give away the fact that you're a prude!" Let's see him top that, she thought.
Getting hot under the collar, he pointed at her buttoned down blouse, his tone dripping in sarcasm, "So you're wearing plaid today? Big surprise!"
She stood up, towering over him, "I happen to like plaid! It's plain and practical!"
"Well, earth to Donna Pinciotti, despite your philosophy- Plaid is NOT A COLOR!" He then shot her a silly 'I win' grin, one that irritated her skin so much she could punch him straight across the face.
Quickly she tore off her buttoned blouse, revealing her white undershirt. Confidently she announced, "There! No more plaid! Are you happy now, Fashion Police Inspector Dink?!"
"I'm the Fashion Police?" He laughed bitterly, "You started this!" He then scrambled to his feet, muttering, "And if you want to play this little game, fine! Two can play this game, missy!" He then tore off his grey T-shirt, forcefully tossing it over his shoulder as he nodded, arrogantly chanting, "Yeah, what do you have to say now, 'cause the nerdy shirt is gone!"
She was about to throw him another insult when his arms waved around suddenly as he shouted, "Oh yeah! You don't like my snazzy loafers than fine!" He hopped around a bit as he took off his shoes, laughing darkly, "Let's see you insult me now, Pinciotti, because I'm taking away all yer ammo!"
He then proudly pointed at her shoes, "But those ugly things, what are they? Boots? Well their three inch heels make you look like a giant!" Her face fell, and delightfully he continued, "That's right, I said it: You are a giant!"
She then kicked off her boots, fuming, "Giant this!" As soon as they were off she marched right up to his face, bitterly announcing, "Oh look! We're the same height, loser!" He tried to think of something to say to her, but she beat him to the punch, pointing at his feet, "White socks are for geeks."
He pointed at her feet, "Well blue socks are for-for-" He couldn't think of anyway of finishing his sentence. But it didn't matter because she was already taking her socks off, telling him off with, "Don't strain yourself thinking of an insult! Because by the time you finish, I'll be done!"
"No you won't!" He shouted, now struggling with taking off his own white socks before she took off hers. In the end, they both succeeded simultaneously. Then came the moment when they were both insulting each other's pants. Both shouted at one another, daring each other to take them off, until both were doing so.
It wasn't until her denim jeans were around her ankles when Donna started to realize what was happening. When she looked up, Eric had already kicked off his corduroy pants and was standing before her in his boxers. He raised his arms, shouting triumphantly, "Ha! I win!"
She didn't say anything. Her eyes could only take in the shreds of their clothing decorating the basement. Soon, his victorious laughter died away as his eyes followed her eye-line. Their clothes was everywhere but most of it wasn't on them. When they were through staring at the basement in their silent trance, their eyes slowly met each other's.
Suddenly there came the feeling that time had stopped, or at least slowed. She knew that she could do one of two things: One, Throw her pants back on, snatch her shoes and pretend everything was his fault and deny her feelings or Two, she could see where this predicament was heading.
From the corners of her eyes, she noticed his chest bobbing up and down frantically. He was terrified. Why was it that when things ever got hot between them, Eric looked like he was having a heart attack? It was something she found oddly attractive. It gave her a sort of power over him, one that had a taste she had grown addicted to over the past year.
With her eyes still locked onto his, she slowly continued removing her jeans. He tried to say something, but the words got caught in his dry throat as she took out one long leg followed by the other. She noticed his eyes widening, his jaw hanging slightly ajar as if he himself wasn't sure what was happening. She then swayed over to him, taking his face in her hands only to gently press her lips against his.
He couldn't form any coherent thoughts at that particular moment, but that didn't stop his hands from finding her lower back, softly pushing her body closer to his. They closed their heavy eyelids, letting themselves fall for one another if for nothing more than to remember how good it felt to be with the other.
Her fingertips lightly touched the ridges of his smooth cheeks, as if she wanted to remember this moment with her eyes closed.
With careful precision, he deepened their kiss. His lips searching for hers, occasionally stopping to nibble on her lower lip. This caused a huge wave of tiny prickles to trickle down her back, urging her to slip him her tongue.
He then felt her hands move from his cheeks to his hair, messing it up. He didn't care. But it was after a long second when he realized her thumbs were massaging his scalp in that special way she knew drove him nuts. He couldn't help it when he pulled back, pleading, "My folks are gone. If you want we can go upstairs-"
Her mind said an affirmative "No." Her mouth breathed out a husky, "Yes!"
Before she knew what she was doing, she grabbed his arm, pulling him up the basement stairs as fast as she could. Her body was whirling with so many urges that if she had to, she'd carry him to his bedroom.
A few minutes after they were gone, Kelso, Hyde, Jackie and Fez piled into the basement, all carrying shopping bags.
Hyde threw his bags on the ground, grumbling, "I can't believe I was trapped in a fitting room with Fez!"
Kelso nodded, going on, "I can't believe the Pretzel guy ran out of pretzels!"
Jackie screeched, "And I can't believe you three morons tried to lose me in Sears! Honestly, as if I don't know my way around there!"
They were so busy arguing it was only Fez who noticed the teenage attire sprinkled in the basement. He tapped Hyde on the shoulder, unsurely asking, "Why is there clothes in the basement?"
The other three stopped bickering and noticed what their foreign friend was talking about. There was an inside out grey T-shirt on top of the freezer. A pair of blue jeans was half tucked under the couch. A corduroy pair on top of Hyde's seat. And other articles of clothing on top of the table and floor.
Taking one look, Kelso noticed, "It looks familiar. Hey, maybe we should ask Eric or Donna if…" His sentence died off as he rubbed his chin, "Wait a minute." As Kelso put two and two together, Hyde and Jackie exchanged knowing looks.
Finally, Fez said what they were all thinking, "I do not know about you guys, but to me breakup Eric and Donna are exactly like dating Eric and Donna. I see no difference." He then pointed at the television set that was still on, "Except that now they watch Chips."