What If: Eric and Donna Became Friends With Benefits?

Chapter 3: Derek & Wanda (2gether 4ever)

Disclaimer: All rights to That '70s Show and its characters belong to The Carsey-Werner company. I am only a fan.

A/N: Here is chapter 3! Thank you so much to those who read and review/favorite/etc. I appreciate it more than you know!

Eric and Donna were inseparable over the next couple of weeks.

The way they couldn't seem to keep their hands off each other whenever they were alone, the almost palpable sexual tension between them when they weren't - it reminded Donna of when they'd first started having sex. The discovery of that pulsing, primal pleasure, their new found enjoyment of each other's body - Donna remembered how all-consuming the obsession had been for the first several months. Like it was now.

And the sneaking around, the secret keeping, the vague paranoia, the niggling sense of shame - for some reason it didn't deter Donna. Having this naughty, fun secret was just the distraction she was looking for. Because the rest of her life… it was kind of in the gutter.

Her mom had arrived safely in California. She was staying with her cousin in San Diego, and had gotten a job as a waitress at a beachside cafe. She called once to talk to Donna. Donna had listened carefully for any inflection in her voice, any hesitancy in her words, any sign that she regretted leaving. That she might come back.

But there weren't any. Midge's voice was light and airy, as unbothered as always. She told Donna there were a lot of handsome surfers on the beach. She told her she should come and visit sometime. She gave Donna her phone number, and told her she could call anytime, so she did. But her mom never called back.

Her dad wasn't faring much better. Bob was taking Midge's loss hard. He shuffled around the house in a state of depression, clad in a not-completely-closed bathrobe. Sometimes he went days without showering or even, uncharacteristically, eating. The fridge and pantry started to become sparse. He wasn't grocery shopping, so Donna was subsisting off of peanut butter sandwiches and bowls of cereal - and the casseroles Ms. Forman was sending over every couple of days.

School, which Donna used to like, had become a dull sort of prison. She dragged herself from one class to the next, putting her head down while her teachers lectured, disengaging instead of working on her homework. Her grades were uncharacteristically poor - and she uncharacteristically didn't care. The only bright spot in her day was homeroom, which she had first thing in the morning with Eric.

They had to do a careful dance in front of their classmates, in front of their friends. They had to maintain the appearance of being broken up - which they were, of course. They were just also screwing like bunnies every time they got the chance.

Jackie, unfortunately, seemed to be onto her.

Today after school, the guys had gone to The Hub for a foosball tournament. Donna and Jackie sat together on the basement couch, waiting for them to return. Jackie flipped through a celebrity gossip magazine. She was doing what Jackie did best: droning on about herself.

Donna mostly tuned her out, only nodding or adding a "Hmm," here or there, when Jackie paused.

"Donna. Hell-oo?"

"Hmm?"

Jackie clapped her hands in front of Donna's face rudely. "Hello, Donna. Me. M-E," she said brattily. She crossed her arms across her chest. "Are you even listening?"

"Yeah, Jackie," Donna waved dismissively. "Something about your hair. You like the new shampoo you bought."

"No. I don't like it, Donna. That's what I'm saying." Jackie narrowed her eyes at her. "Donna. Why aren't you listening attentively to my story?"

"I am - "

"Oh, you are not," Jackie huffed. "It's like you're here but you're not here," she pointed to her head. Curious, Jackie cocked her head to the side. "Actually, you know, this is the first time I've seen you all week." She paused, processing. "Where have you been?"

"What do you mean?" Donna asked carefully.

"You didn't come over to the basement last night," Jackie accused. "Or the night before that."

She shrugged. "I was doing homework."

But Jackie's eyes were still narrowed skeptically. "Uh huh. And last weekend? Where were you then?"

"I was - homework," Donna put her hands up, like Jackie was overreacting. "Doing homework. I have a Chemistry test this week, okay?"

"You do not."

Donna scowled at her. "How would you know?"

"You have Chemistry with Steven. Fifth period, with Mr. McGinty. Right?"

"I - " Donna stuttered, caught off guard.

"He gave his unit test two weeks ago," Jackie informed Donna. She was right. Donna hadn't studied for it and she'd gotten a D.

Donna narrowed her eyes. She flopped up from the couch and turned the TV on, effectively ending the conversation. She was so done talking about this. If Jackie asked any more questions, she just might be able to sniff out the truth.

"Look. It's the Newlywed Game. Your favorite." Donna gestured to the TV weakly.

Jackie continued to give her an odd look. Donna could feel her watching her from the content of her eye. But as the program began, Jackie quickly became distracted. She started to make catty comments about a contestant's make-up, and tittered at a question about sex. Donna released a tentative breath of relief.

If Jackie found out about Eric and Donna's - arrangement - then everyone would know. Jackie had the biggest mouth at Point Place High. And Donna wouldn't be able to stand it if everyone knew what a phony feminist she was, how much she enjoyed sex, or worst of all - that she might still have feelings for Eric. She wasn't sure if she had fully processed that one, herself.

"Gosh, can't you just not wait to be married?" Jackie asked her dreamily as the episode went into a commercial break.

"Uh. Not really."

"Oh, what do you know, Donna?" Jackie responded brattily. "You turned down Eric's promise ring."

It felt, to Donna, like all the air was suddenly sucked out of the room. Not this. They couldn't talk about this.

But Jackie still looked at her. Donna could feel her gaze, even as she kept hers fixed straight ahead on the TV.

"Why did you turn down the promise ring?" she asked, softly.

Donna took a deep breath. "Hey, you know what? I don't want to talk about this."

Why did she turn down the ring? Donna thought.

Why did Eric buy her the ring? Why did he insist she wear it the way he wanted, insist she agree to the future he wanted? Why didn't he consider her feelings? Why didn't he trust that they could work through this - why had he cut all ties at their first major conflict? Why had he suggested this arrangement, their casual sex? Was it because he only cared about her for her body? Donna had a lot of questions. She just didn't feel like discussing them with Jackie.

"Oh my god. You are hooking up with someone." Jackie brought her hands to her mouth in a mix of shock and excitement. "I knew it!"

"What? No." Donna shook her head. "Jackie. No." How had she drawn that conclusion?

"I knew there was something going on with you," Jackie continued, as if Donna hadn't spoken. "You're 'busy' all the time. You don't want to talk about Eric. You've been in a better mood."

"I've been… sleeping better," Donna mumbled, weakly.

"Yeah - no. That's not it."

"It's nothing, Jackie. So drop it," an almost pleading tone crept into Donna's voice.

But Jackie started to cackle. She knew she had her.

"You're having sex," Jackie declared, matter-of-factly.

"No. Definitely not." But Donna was blushing.

"Spill, Pinciotti." Jackie's eyes were gleaming, aglow with the excitement of fresh gossip. She patted Donna's hands excitedly. "Oh my God, Donna, who is it? No - no, wait. Let me guess."

"No one - Jackie - "

"Calvin Hunter?"

"What? No - "

"Um. Walter Monsmith."

Donna gave her an offended look. "No. Look, will you shut up already?"

"Donna, you have to tell me," Jackie continued to insist. "C'mon. This is - this is best friend code."

Jackie was a master manipulator, and she often tried to use emotion - guilt - to twist at Donna's conscience. But Donna shook her head again. She was sure her face was now bright red, to match her hair.

"No," she brought her hands up to cover her face, ashamed. "Jackie, you don't understand. It's embarrassing…" she mumbled.

Jackie chuckled. "Well, it can't be any more embarrassing than Eric." She watched Donna's face carefully, and her expression fell. "Oh, no. Donna - it's worse than Eric?" she confirmed, her expression twisting in horror.

"I don't want to talk about this," Donna repeated. She shook her head, and pushed herself up from the couch. "In fact, you know what? I've gotta go."

"Off to study?" Jackie drawled, dryly.

Donna groaned and slammed the basement door behind her.

They were going to have to be a lot more careful from now on.

On Friday morning, Eric filed into room 126 for homeroom like always. But he immediately felt all of his classmates staring at him, and he looked around uncertainly. Hesitantly, he checked his wristwatch and confirmed he wasn't tardy. His shirt didn't have a stain or anything on it, either. Fighting a tidal wave of self consciousness, Eric made his way to the table where he and Donna usually sat.

"Hey, friend," he greeted her with a wave. He was careful to keep distance between their chairs, resisted the urge to lean over and give her a kiss hello, to swing his arm around her shoulder.

Donna was equally measured in her response. "Hi," she said meekly.

Eric sat down next to her, but she avoided eye contact. Instead she'd flipped open her notebook and was doodling in the margins. Her emotional distance was a red flag, and now he frowned.

"Donna, is something going - "

"Cat killer," a shrill voice from the next row over announced. It was Marlene Henson. Her arms were crossed and her glare was fixed on Eric.

"Porn freak," her friend Jenny Soto added.

Eric chuckled nervously. He was confused. "Uh. What are you guys talking ab- "

"It's all here," Trinity Lawson informed him. She shoved a copy of the school paper into Eric's hands, roughly. "Bastard," Eric swore he heard her say under her breath as she stalked back to her seat.

His heartbeat started to thunder as he realized that his instincts had been correct. Something was most definitely going on. Every girl in the room was glaring daggers at him - except for Donna. Her head was still bowed over her notebook.

"Donna - " he hissed, willing her to look at him.

But she wouldn't look up, and it only added to the anxiety growing within him. Eric felt his stomach clench unpleasantly. Then he glanced down at the school paper, and it only got worse.

"Ye Olde Adventures of Derek & Wanda," he read the headline aloud, frowning immediately. The foreboding feeling at the center of his chest continued to grow. "A story series by - No." It felt like his heart dropped to his knees. "Donna Pinciotti."

Donna finally looked up and met his eyes, and hers were wet. "I'm sorry - " she mouthed.

"No. No no no no."

Eric quickly scanned the story. It was a historical tale set in an Old English Moor - but also a love story. Theirs.

And Donna had spared no detail. The characters were next door neighbors, they had been friends since they were children and then fell in love as teenagers. But Derek was a greedy, impatient man who demanded sex - and commitment - from Wanda. In contrast, Wanda was the story's protagonist. She hoped to one day be able to leave the constraints of the bog and her controlling boyfriend, to travel the world with her trusted cat. Whom Derek had tried to kill, on multiple occasions.

Eric's mouth fell open in disbelief as he read. This wasn't true. It - okay, parts of it were true. But why in the world had Donna done this? Why would she print this, for everyone to know their private business? How could she sell him out like this? Everyone would hate him now, based on the way she portrayed him.

"I - I - " Eric stammared, unable to formulate a full thought. A response.

"Eric - "

He thought he heard Donna calling to him, but he couldn't answer her.

"Eric, remember we have that assignment for the yearbook?"

She'd stood up, and she nudged his shoulder now. But he was still frozen in place.

"Uhh - "

"We have to take pictures of the weight room and the new mural on the second floor."

"..."

"Mr. Randall?" Donna called their teacher now. Mr. Randall was probably a hundred years old. Once he took attendance, he'd slump behind his desk for the duration of the period. There were some rumors that he kept whiskey in his desk drawer. "Eric and I need to be excused to take some photos for the yearbook."

"Hrrmm?"

"Can we have a pass, please?" Donna asked sweetly. She'd turned on the charm she used with adults, or when she was trying to get her way. It worked on Eric, too. Even better when she was naked.

A few moments later, Donna tugged him out of the classroom. There was a nearby stairwell, and they ducked underneath it to avoid the hall monitors.

Now that they were alone, Eric finally found his voice. "Donna, what is this?" He held the paper up and flicked the front page, irritated.

"I'm sorry - "

"You're sorry?"

"I wanted to tell you - "

"Well, you didn't - "

"It's just," Donna bit her lip. "The last time the paper published one of my stories it didn't seem like you cared, so - "

That stopped him. Eric frowned. "I cared," he insisted.

But he remembered the interaction. Donna'd showed her byline to him proudly, and he'd laughed because they'd misspelled her name. They got into a fight afterwards, about whether she'd work or not when they were married. It maybe wasn't his best moment. But it still didn't give her the right to do this.

"This story is about us," he accused her, his voice hard in a way it normally wasn't when he spoke to her. "You took stuff from our life and put 'em in your story." He lowered his voice. "Like that time you found those Playboys under my bed."

"Okay, maybe there are some similarities," she acknowledged, shrugging. "But that's what writers do. I mean, we take stuff from our lives."

"Yeah, but you made me mean all the time. And that's… mean."

She stepped forward, closing the distance between them. "Eric - I am sorry," she said, her voice soft. "I didn't - I d-didn't know if they were gonna print it or not, and then - "

"Is this what you really think about me?" He cut her off, impatiently.

"No!" Donna shook her head. "Well - yes," she amended a second later. "But you haven't read the whole story," she added, almost shyly.

"What do you mean?"

"There's another part." Donna unzipped her backpack, and pulled out a notebook. She handed it to him. "The story was too long, so the paper broke it in half." She gestured to the notebook he held. "This is the ending. It'll come out tomorrow."

Eric eyed her wearily, but he flipped the notebook open and began to read. There was a part of him that still, inexplicably, trusted her. Even if he shouldn't.

He scanned the rest of the story quickly and silently. Wanda achieved her dream, and she left the small English Moor in search of great adventures. Somehow she found that she still wasn't happy, though. In the last paragraph she finally sees Derek again and she realizes she's still in love with him. And that she always will be.

Eric finished reading, and flipped the notebook closed silently. He handed it back to Donna without a word. He wasn't sure what he was feeling. Shock. Elation. Confusion. Guilt.

They stood in silence for a long moment.

"Was I really that bad?" he croaked, eventually.

Donna met him with a soft smile. "Sometimes," she admitted.

He swallowed hard. "Do you - " his voice stilted. "Do you hate me?" he whispered. Because he'd read the story, and he hated Derek. He was stubborn and selfish, demanding and bossy.

"Eric - " Donna whispered. She stepped even closer to him still, and cupped his face now. If anyone saw them…

"No," Donna continued. "Of course I don't. I - "

There was a noise in the hallway, and they jumped away from each other reflexively. But after a few heart-pounding moments, it was silent in the stairwell once again.

Eric cleared his throat. "Well I just want to say, that if I did make you feel that way then I'm - I'm sorry."

Donna looked surprised. "Well - thanks." She flashed him a brief smile. "I was pretty mad when I wrote this," she continued, contemplatively. "But after I got all that stuff off my chest, I felt better about us. More like the second half of the story."

"Yeah." Eric watched her carefully. "So what do you think happens to Derek and Wanda?"

"Well. In the story, they go off on their own adventures." She ignored the ending, Wanda's confession that she would always love Derek. Eric swallowed.

"Yeah. That's probably good for them."

"Yeah," she agreed. "It's probably time they moved on."

"Sure. But they'll always be friends," Eric added.

"Special friends," Donna agreed.

Eric held her gaze for a long moment. She broke eye contact first, and glanced away.

"Hey," he cleared his throat, waggled his eyebrows at her, hoping to break the tension. "Have you ever written any… dirty stories about Derek and Wanda?" He smirked.

Donna blushed. "I mean, I've tried before but I don't think they're any good…" she trailed off.

"Oh my god, you're serious?" Eric confirmed. He'd lifted a hand to his chest in utter shock and disbelief. "I was kidding. Okay. I'm gonna need to see those, now, Missy," he grinned at her.