Penny
Author: Oro
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Hah. Ever hear of Aaron Sorkin?
Notes: Danielle. And go Tahlia for beta.


Call me by my nickname, my full name, my last name. Just call me.

That's how she was in college, when all they ever wanted was to fuck her. And that's not how she is now, all grown-up in a world not at all similar to college except for the fact they still want to fuck her. She would like to think she's more grown up than this but she keeps waiting; waiting for his damn penny to drop already, for him to realize that she can be valuable to him. He realized once but not so much in the context she hoped. She's invaluable to no one but him and (at least subconsciously) she makes sure things remain that way.

But it doesn't drop and he doesn't want to fuck her, at all, because he has his Amy and Amy has the ring to prove it; she flashes it, her grin wide. And her eyes shine brighter than the ring. And Donna's eyes widen, too, for there was no sign, and Josh is a pretty damn obvious guy; it's the bad poker face that always gives him away. Or has, in the past. Past tense. Just like the way she refers in her thoughts to that limited timeframe in which she should've told him about her feelings towards him.

She helps Amy pick out a wedding gown for the walk down the rose-petal covered aisle at the Netzah Israel synagogue, and the jokes about Amy's father dying of a heart attack at his Catholic girl's Jewish wedding only enhance this feeling of emptiness inside. She would like to be happy for him, for her, for them; Amy is beautiful, even more so as she glows, wrapped in those ivory waves of fabric that are her dress, which contrasts with her dark hair. (Josh does seem to like dark hair, and she toys for the millionth time with the idea that he might like her if she dyed her hair pitch-black).

Call me by my title, my gender, my attractive features. Just call me.

They do call her, occasionally; they call her Donna and baby and hug me and straddle me, and so does Josh when he decides he just can't do the thing with Amy, possibly because he's in love with Donna but maybe not, we'll have to check. The engagement is off: that's all he says, and oh baby, it feels so good; he kisses her and they've both longed to do that ever since the beginning of time, it seems. They don't hear the front door slam but they do hear it when the ring falls from Amy's finger and lands on the floor; they fall on the floor, together, not wanting to let go. She doesn't make the connection, because when she hears the sound of something round and metallic on the floor she knows that in the context of him and her, it's that damn penny.


FIN