Title: One Day At A Time
Pairing: Stacie/Donald
Author's Note: Hey all! Sorry it took a while to get this chapter up. I've been writing a few other stories that kept interrupting me. Anyway, I finally finished this chapter, and I hope you all like it. R&R!
-Sux2budude
Chapter Four:
-DS-
…
Donald groans lightly, as he rolls over to get closer to Stacie, but he yelps as he plummets off the bed and lands on the floor with a thud. His eyes scan around him confusedly, realizing that he isn't even in their bedroom, but rather, on the floor inside the living room. His eyebrows furrow as he slowly gets up, wincing as a wave of nausea and dizziness hits him. "Fuck." He mutters under his breath. He tries to remember the events from last night, and that's when he realizes why he was sleeping on the couch. Last night's events are a bit blurry, but he certainly remembers the little argument that went down between him and Stacie.
Last night, through his drunken state of mind, he was convinced that he was righteously angry at Stacie for being all up on him while he was drunk and tired. But right now, while he's sober and feeling like he got hit by a bus after he'd just finished head-butting a moose, he realizes how stupid and idiotic he'd been acting last night. He groans louder as he starts towards the bedroom, ready to get on his knees and beg her to forgive him for acting like a grad-A asshole.
His hopes of talking to her are sent straight to hell when he finds the bedroom, empty. He sighs heavily, feeling a hundred times worse than he did just a couple of seconds ago. He takes a seat on the bed, not knowing what to do next. He finds a note on the dresser, with his name on it, and he feels just the slightest bit of hope as he quickly opens it up and begins to read.
-Gone out for a bit. I'll be back later. Please don't call me. I just need some time away from you.
-Stacie
Donald's eyebrows furrow as he rereads the note over and over again. "Don't worry about her? Is she insane?" he mutters under his breath. And for a moment, he gets a weird sense of déjà vu; instead, Stacie's the one who's worried about him. "I'm such a fucking idiot." He sighs. He rereads Stacie's letter once more, before just a tiny spark of an idea comes to him.
He quickly reaches into his pocket, thankful that his phone is still there, though it's still on silent from last night. He finally sees all the missed calls from Stacie last night. Nine from Stacie, three from Bumper, and four from Jesse. There are three voice messages from Stacie from last night. He listens to the first one, wishing he could turn back time as he starts to play it.
"Donald, it's me… where are you? I'm really worried about you. Anyway, call me when you get this."
Donald winces at the loud screeching that Stacie lets out in her second message: "DONALD, PICK UP YOUR DAMN PHONE, RIGHT THIS INSTANT! I'M NOT JOKING, MISTER! ANSWER YOUR PHONE!"
And then her voice turns soft, laced with concern in her last message: "Babe, please answer your phone. I'm really worried now. I'm not playing, so please just come home, or at least answer your damn phone. Call me as soon as you can… I love you."
Donald almost had tears in his eyes as he pulls the phone away from his ear. "I love you too, baby." He mutters in reply to the message.
He types out a quick text message to Stacie and sends it before he can chicken out.
Donald: I'm txting u because your note said not to call you. I'm so sorry, Stacie. Pls come home. I'm sorry. And I love you so much. I didn't mean anything I said last night. I was just acting like a drunken idiot. Please come home. Where are you?
He waits almost five minutes before he finally gets a reply, jumping a little as the phone vibrates in his hand. He actually expected her to ignore him. He quickly opens the message, and reads it quickly.
Stacie: I know. I'll be home later. I just need some time away from you, okay?
Donald: okay. Where are you? Please just humor me and tell me where you are.
Stacie: Promise me you won't show up here and try to make me come home?
Donald: Promise.
Stacie: I'm at Beca's apartment.
Donald: Okay. I'm sorry Stacie. I promise I'll make things better when you come home. I love you
Stacie: I'll talk to you later.
Donald sighs heavily, chucking his phone onto the bed. "All because you're a fucking idiot, Donald!" he growls at himself.
He spends the day sulking and wallowing in misery, watching T.V, playing candy crush on his phone, and staring at the door, waiting for Stacie to come home. It's around 6 P.M when he finally hears the roaring of an engine in front of the house, before shutting off in the driveway, and he practically sprints to the door, stopping there and waiting for Stacie to come in.
…
Stacie parks her car and slowly trudges to the front door of her and Donald's apartment, hoping to at least not fight with him tonight. She tries the door knob, finding that it's unlocked, and she pulls it open to nearly have a heart attack when she comes face to face with Donald, standing at the door, looking at her like he just saw someone die.
Stacie silently closes the door behind her, her eyes pulling away from his sad, regretful ones.
"Can we talk?" Donald asks as Stacie begins down the hallway leading to the stairs.
"About what?" Stacie retorts, not really in the mood to talk to him at the moment. She had spent the day telling Beca about Donald's actions the previous nights, to which Beca had asked if he had hit her or anything. Stacie had of course, immediately defended Donald. Even though he was acting like an asshole last night, she still loves him, and she knows that he would never ever lay a finger on her. He could never do that to her. That much, is clear.
Donald gently grasps her arm to face her towards him. "Stacie, please." He whispers softly, his eyes holding every bit of remorse and regret that he feels. "Can I at least say something?"
Stacie could feel the little bit of anger towards him that she had been holding onto, slip away at the sight of Donald's eyes. She feels the tiny sting of tears in her eyes as she finally stares right into the eyes that she loves so much. No matter how angry she is with him, she could never hate him, or stop loving him. And by the look he's giving her now, she thinks he feels the same way for her. Finally, she nods, and she silently leads the way towards the living room, where they both settle themselves down onto the couch.
"Stacie, I'm so sorry." Donald says sincerely, going straight to the point. "I know I'm an asshole. I acted like a complete idiot last night, I said things that I didn't mean, and I didn't stop to think about how much pressure you're going through, and I am so, so sorry… I'm sorry that I'm already acting like a terrible father to our baby. I'm sorry that I'm always immature, and I'm especially sorry that I don't tell you every day, that I love you… so—,"
"Stop." Stacie cuts him off, her fingers rubbing her temple. She's pregnant, so she knows that the hormones are the blame for the headaches she's been having all day, but dear God above, she doesn't know if she can fight it any longer. She's grateful that Donald, at least, has stopped talking, though his eyes stay glued to her.
Stacie lets out a heavy sigh, and though her stubbornness tells her to stay angry at him, her heart tells her otherwise, because as of right now, her head feels like it will explode if their current issue isn't resolved in the next twenty seconds. Chances are, if she goes on to being stubborn, Donald's mouth will eventually say something that will ultimately snap the thin line of sanity that she has left, and this 'small' issue of theirs, will either lead to her going on a hormone-driven murdering rampage, or an epic breakup… and because she does not want either of that, she opens her mouth and says what she knows will definitely defuse the metaphorical bomb. "I forgive you."
Donald's eyebrows furrow as if he doesn't understand the three words she's just uttered. "What?" He's genuinely confused, because he knows Stacie, and he also knows how stubborn she can be. And though he wants to shut up and nod and hug and kiss her, he's also an idiot, and he says something really stupid that makes him want to punch himself for, a moment later. "No you don't."
Stacie sighs again, leaning back against the couch as her hands fall around her protruding baby bump. Donald's eyes follow the movement of her hands, and she knows that he's itching to touch it too. "You're right." Stacie shrugs, "I don't." no use in denying the truth. She glances over at Donald, and she can see the questioning look on his face, waiting for an explanation for her words. "But I also don't want to fight." It's all she can offer right now. She's tired, achy, hormonal, moody, and presently teetering on the edge of her sanity. If she's going to be forced to explain any more than that, she'll have to exit the room before she ends up strangling her boyfriend.
Luckily enough for Donald and her sakes (but mostly Donald's), he senses her discomfort and keeps his mouth closed. She can feel and hear him inching closer to her side, and though the insistent part of her brain is telling her to apprehend him; the logical- emotionally exhausted side of her just wants to be wrapped up in his arms and forget about their fight. She doesn't move as he slides over to her side, his leg pressing gently against hers.
"Can I touch you?" his question isn't all that idiotic because of Stacie's mood, so she nods. His arm immediately goes to rest around her shoulders, and Stacie appreciates the warmth that's coupled with the gesture. She hesitates for a moment, but ultimately decides to just drop her anger as she leans her head against his chest. "I'm so sorry, Stacie." Donald mutters softly against her hair as he rests his cheek atop her head.
Stacie nods again, closing her eyes for a moment to gather her nerves. Inhaling deeply, she finally opens her eyes and pulls slightly away from Donald so she can look at him. She's not surprised to see the sincere look in his eyes, and she gives him the tiniest hint of a smile. "I know." She looks down to where the back of his hand is pressed against thigh, and she takes it in hers, squeezing it gently. "I also know that you didn't mean anything you said to me last night, mostly because I've seen you drunk before, and you usually say stupid shit when you're drunk."
This makes Donald laugh, and Stacie feels exceedingly grateful that the heavy disposition in the air has been diminished. His laugh dies down rather quickly though, and he gives her a serious look that means honesty. "You may be right, but I still don't have an excuse for getting drunk."
"I think you do." Stacie responds, her eyebrow quirking slightly. Donald looks away, confirming Stacie's unspoken theory. "You're still upset about the fact that I lied to you about my tutoring sessions, and you're doubting me."
Donald's eyes turn back to stare into hers, and he swallows nervously. "I'm sorry" he mutters softly "… I just—I feel like—like I don't deserve you, and I'm just constantly waiting for you to break up with me, or lost interest, or—,"
Stacie silences Donald by pressing her hand to his mouth, whispering a soft, yet stern, "Stop." She waits for his nod, before slowly removing her hand from his mouth, and replacing it with her own. It's really just a quick peck, but she tries her best to transmit her love for him in that short kiss. When she pulls away, she gives him a serious, almost scolding look. "If there's one thing I'm still angry at you for, it's the fact that you still believe that there's someone out there who can be what I deserve… so I'm going to tell once again, that no one, and I mean, absolutely no one on God's green earth, deserves me more than you do. You make me happier than I've ever been in my entire life, you make me want to be better at everything, you challenge me in ways that no other human being can, and you hold every single piece of my heart… Donald, you are the father of my child, and the love of my life. What more can I possibly say to you to make you believe that?"
He has to close his eyes to keep from crying like a freaking pansy. He knows that she means every word she says, but it still doesn't stop him from believing that absolutely no one on this planet deserves such a beautiful and amazing person as her. And because of that, he feels like the luckiest guy on this planet. He nods slowly, smiling widely at the mother of his child, and the only woman he loved, loves, and will ever love. "I believe you." He tells her honestly. "I just don't believe myself… I acted like a complete idiot, and I'm sorry. But I will promise you that from now on, I will try my best to be a good father to our baby, and the best life-partner for you."
Stacie squints at Donald, her mouth suddenly going dry. "Are you asking me to marry you?"
Donald shakes his head, and Stacie feels the sharp sting of disappointment at that. But, he's quick to reply. "Not yet… I know you're the only person that I can imagine a life with in the future, so I know it'll eventually lead up to marriage."
"But?" Stacie nervously asks, her heart beginning to race at what he's about to say next.
"But when I finally ask you, I want it to be everything you want it to be. I want it to be perfect, and cheesy, and romantic, and—,"
Stacie cuts him off again, but this time, she does it with her lips, pressing against his passionately. It takes a bit over a minute, but when she pulls away, she rests her forehead against his and she lets herself smile, because his answer is much better than she thought. "I don't care if you propose to me with a plastic ring, Donald… I already know what my answer will be."
Donald chuckles lightly, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer to him. "Now I'm curious as to what your answer will be." He mutters, pressing another kiss to her lips.
"Then maybe you should ask soon." With that, Stacie gets up off the couch, taking a little longer than she would have taken before pregnancy, but not really minding. Donald's eyes follow her.
"Where are you going?"
"Your spawn is craving something sweet, and I seriously do not want to have to wake up around 3 in the morning to make you run to the store for ice cream because it won't stop kicking my kidneys."
Donald smiles, but sighs in exasperation. He was actually getting ready to try to coax out Stacie's answer to his future proposal.
"Oh, and Donald?"
Donald looks back up at her, offering a grin. "Yeah?"
"That kiss I gave you is your hint to my answer." Stacie winks, before walking away to the kitchen, swaying her hips daintily.
Donald couldn't help the way his stomach was fluttering girlishly. "I gotta ask her soon." He mutters to himself, before getting up and following Stacie into the kitchen.
Bomb, successfully defused.
...
Author's Note: Hello, you wonderful people! This concludes chapter 4, and I hope you all like it. And I added that nice little hint at the end of the chapter for what is to come in a bit. Anyway, please leave a review. A big thanks to those who reviewed the previous chapters. I love you all!
-Sux2budude