TITLE: Memories
PAIRING: Donna & Amy
RATING: PG
SPOILERS: Anything with Amy. Written after Commencement, but nothing explicit for anything past Dead Irish Writers...
SUMMARY: They were never together, not really, but for a time they lived parallel lives, and their paths intersected more often than not.
FEEDBACK: Yes, please! Directed to alaira238@hotmail.com, or post at ff.net...
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I didn't think this would ever see the light of day, but seeing as I received so much immediate and kind response to Picture, I thought, hey, why not. So, another excruciatingly short Donna/Amy fic with a pitiful title. Thanks to all who sent me stuff, even the one-liners. I appreciate it all. ((send me more!)) This is for you.
DISCLAIMERZ: Not mine. Presently, Aaron's. Soon to be John's. Don't sue. T'is appreciated...
~
Memories...
They have each a collection of memories, from the time they were apart, but together. They were never together, not really, but for a time they lived parallel lives, and their paths intersected more often than not. They cherish these memories, keep them tucked away, and never speak of them, not even to each other.
Because that was then, a year that seems like a lifetime, when things seemed simpler, but weren't really. They never speak of these things, never speak of how their relationship was built around so much complication that it would never have worked anyway.
In truth, they barely speak at all now. But they each have their memories, each their own nearly identical set, like double print pictures, divided between two people. They each take them out from time to time, just to look, just to make sure they can hold on to each distinct memory...
. . . Of how Donna always smelt of orange blooms, soft, sweet, deliciously rounded; and Amy wore Ralph, professional, designer, precisely defined.
. . . Of how Amy always ordered burnt toast and Donna always ordered her just plain bread, untoasted, and ate it with strawberry jam.
. . . Of how the first time they kissed, they were each chewing gum. How for the rest of the day, Donna tasted something almost minty in her Juicy Fruit, and Amy tasted something like fruit in her Dentyne Ice.
. . . Of how they laughed like schoolgirls trying on shoes at the mall one day. Of how the next day, Donna wore her new shoes and a dress that was Amy's, and Josh pretended not to notice.
. . . Of how they couldn't keep their eyes off one another that first night they dared to think there might be something there, at the First Lady's birthday party.
. . . Of how the most fundamental parts of their relationship were just like it's foundation; unspoken, quiet and with other people in the room.
~
PAIRING: Donna & Amy
RATING: PG
SPOILERS: Anything with Amy. Written after Commencement, but nothing explicit for anything past Dead Irish Writers...
SUMMARY: They were never together, not really, but for a time they lived parallel lives, and their paths intersected more often than not.
FEEDBACK: Yes, please! Directed to alaira238@hotmail.com, or post at ff.net...
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I didn't think this would ever see the light of day, but seeing as I received so much immediate and kind response to Picture, I thought, hey, why not. So, another excruciatingly short Donna/Amy fic with a pitiful title. Thanks to all who sent me stuff, even the one-liners. I appreciate it all. ((send me more!)) This is for you.
DISCLAIMERZ: Not mine. Presently, Aaron's. Soon to be John's. Don't sue. T'is appreciated...
~
Memories...
They have each a collection of memories, from the time they were apart, but together. They were never together, not really, but for a time they lived parallel lives, and their paths intersected more often than not. They cherish these memories, keep them tucked away, and never speak of them, not even to each other.
Because that was then, a year that seems like a lifetime, when things seemed simpler, but weren't really. They never speak of these things, never speak of how their relationship was built around so much complication that it would never have worked anyway.
In truth, they barely speak at all now. But they each have their memories, each their own nearly identical set, like double print pictures, divided between two people. They each take them out from time to time, just to look, just to make sure they can hold on to each distinct memory...
. . . Of how Donna always smelt of orange blooms, soft, sweet, deliciously rounded; and Amy wore Ralph, professional, designer, precisely defined.
. . . Of how Amy always ordered burnt toast and Donna always ordered her just plain bread, untoasted, and ate it with strawberry jam.
. . . Of how the first time they kissed, they were each chewing gum. How for the rest of the day, Donna tasted something almost minty in her Juicy Fruit, and Amy tasted something like fruit in her Dentyne Ice.
. . . Of how they laughed like schoolgirls trying on shoes at the mall one day. Of how the next day, Donna wore her new shoes and a dress that was Amy's, and Josh pretended not to notice.
. . . Of how they couldn't keep their eyes off one another that first night they dared to think there might be something there, at the First Lady's birthday party.
. . . Of how the most fundamental parts of their relationship were just like it's foundation; unspoken, quiet and with other people in the room.
~