What If: Eric and Donna Became Friends With Benefits?

Chapter 2: It Wasn't A Date (Oh Please)


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

A/N: Thanks to everyone who read and enjoyed chapter 1! Here's the next one.


"Oh my God," Donna groaned. Beads of sweat had gathered along her hairline and she lifted one hand to her forehead, wiping away the condensation deliriously. The other hand was buried beneath the covers, gripping Eric's shaggy mane.

A few seconds later, Eric's head popped up from underneath the covers like a prairie dog. "You have to be quieter," he admonished. But he was smirking proudly.

Donna nodded, gulping, trying to maintain her composure. He tossed a Spiderman-clad pillow at her, indicating for her to cover her face with it. Then he ducked back underneath the covers.

In just a few moments, Eric's mouth and fingers had worked her into a frenzy again. Donna's hips writhed beneath him as she reached her climax, and she dutifully clutched the pillow over her face. But the flimsy pillow did little to muffle her cries.

"Shhh," Eric whispered, laughing as he crawled up her body. He playfully cupped his hand across her mouth.

Sure enough, a moment later there were two rapt knocks against his bedroom door.

"Eric?" It was his mother's voice, and he rolled off Donna and righted himself immediately. "Eric?" Kitty repeated, concerned. "Is everything okay?"

He shot Donna an irritated look - see? - and his voice cracked as he answered. "Uh, yeah. I-I'm fine, Mom."

"What are you doing in there?"

"I'm - " Eric hesitated, and looked to Donna. She had unhelpfully dissolved into giggles. "Uh. I'm - singing," he finally answered.

"Singing?"

"For the - the school musical," Eric continued his lie. It was coming to him as he spoke. "Yeah, I'm gonna try out so, you know. I'm practicing."

"Oh, my!"

Eric didn't say anything else, hoping she'd walk away. But of course he had no such luck.

"You might want to try a different key, Sweetie," Kitty suggested. There was a rattle, as she tried the door handle. Eric flinched, even though it was locked. Donna was a giggling lump under the covers.

"Yeah - great, okay."

"Eric?" She knocked again.

"I'll do that, Mom," his voice rose, agitated.

There was a long pause, and then a sigh.

"Well, just remember to give me your suit for tonight. I need to iron it for you."

"Okay, Mom," Eric agreed, impatiently.

"Do you want to wear your brown one or the gray one? Because - "

"I've got it under control, don't worry."

"Eric. I'm serious. I'm going to start the ironing in twenty minutes and - "

"Yeah, Mom," he repeated. His annoyance made his voice louder, harsher. "I heard you."

"Alright…"

He listened for a few seconds more. It seemed like Kitty had finally walked away, and Eric breathed a sigh of relief.

"What's tonight?" Donna reappeared from underneath the covers, and she seemed to have regained her composure.

"The Pricemart Ball," Eric glanced at her wearily. "You should remember. You agreed to go with me before the… ugliness."

"I remember," Donna said softly. Then she surprised him. "I'll still go." She nudged his shoulder. "Remember last year, they had all-you-can-eat shrimp?"

"Really? You don't think it'd be weird? Us going on a date?"

"Eric, it's not a date. We're not a couple anymore."

"No - I know," he backtracked, flustered. "It's not a date. I know it's not a date," he assured her. "It's a - shrimp fest. A festival of shrimp, if you will."

"Exactly."

"O-ho-kay," he laughed, and squeezed her shoulder.

She sat up, and began to reassemble her clothing.

"See you tonight," Donna said, as she zipped her jeans. "Oh, and," she turned around at the windowsill. "Wear the gray suit. You look really nice in gray."

"See you tonight," he swallowed hard. "Friend."

If Donna didn't want this to be a date, then it wouldn't be, he thought darkly.


The night started off promising enough. Donna was a little embarrassed to admit she'd been looking forward to the Pricemart Ball. She'd bought a dress, she had matching shoes. Last year she'd gone with Eric and they'd had live music, an open bar with an old-as-dirt bartender who didn't look closely at their fake IDs, and an endless seafood buffet. She thought it was going to be a fun night. And it would probably end in sex - that was a bonus.

But instead, Eric was in some kind of sour mood. It had started when they met on the driveway.

He looked nice in his dark gray suit, and Donna helped him straighten his tie as Red and Kitty approached them.

"Aw. Don't the kids look nice for their date," Mrs. Forman remarked to Red.

"Yep," Red agreed, curtly. "Nice as hell."

"Actually Mom," Eric was quick to correct her, "It's not a date."

"Well I just - I like seeing you two together. You look so natural."

"But we're not together," Eric insisted. An awkward silence fell.

Donna shot him a look, but he didn't see it. They get the picture, dillhole, she thought.

"Well sure you are. I'm looking right at you!" Kitty laughed at her own joke, and they all moved closer to the car as Mr. Forman's impatience mounted.

"Let's spend the whole night in the driveway looking at the kids," he said sarcastically. "That's what I want to do."

Eric gestured like he would open the car door for her, but at the last minute he maneuvered in front of her and climbed in the car first. "Hey Donna, why don't you make like a circle and go round?" he suggested, as he casually straightened his lapel.

Her cheeks burned with anger and embarrassment, but Red quickly stepped in. "Slide over or I'll hit you in the head."

"Yes, sir." Eric cleared his throat and quickly moved aside.

As Donna climbed in next to him she made a joke, hoping it masked her hurt.

They were sitting so close together their knees touched. She could feel his body heat, but also a burning resentment she didn't understand. What changed since this afternoon?

Once they arrived at the banquet hall, it got even worse.

They approached their table, and Eric began to pull the chair out for her. But at the last minute, he pulled it away and she tumbled to the floor.

"Whoops - not a date - "

"Eric!" She scrambled to keep her dress in place, and glared at him as she stood up. What the hell?

"Sorry," he said insincerely. "Minor glitch. Okay, let's let the good times roll!" He clapped his hands together and they both sat down.

"Eric. Why are you acting weird?" She glared at him. Clearly her comment from earlier about this not being a date was bothering him. Why he had such trouble grasping their rules - she had no clue.

"What do you mean?" he feigned confusion. "Well, it's not a date. We're not a couple, you know, so - "

"Yeah, I know," Donna interrupted him. She was still upset. He didn't have to embarrass her like that. "We're supposed to be friends," she pointed out.

"Friends… with benefits," he waggled his eyebrows at her. "Right?"

Donna crossed her arms across her chest, unamused. "You're not gonna be enjoying any of those benefits unless you start being nicer to me," she informed him.

"Okay - okay," his shoulders finally slumped in surrender. "I'm sorry, okay? It's just - Donna, it's weird trying to be friends with you. It's not like being friends with, like, Hyde. I haven't, you know, touched his fun parts." She giggled. "Well, on purpose," he added as an afterthought, and Donna giggled some more. Slowly, Eric grinned.

"We used to have a lot of fun together," Donna reminded him. But her eyes had softened. He was having trouble navigating their new boundaries - she couldn't exactly blame him. She was, too.

"I know."

"You used to be my best friend." A heaviness, an ache, settled in her heart.

"You're still my best friend," he told her, sincerely.

And just like that, the weight floated away like a feather in the wind. She blushed.

"Okay. So. We want to try, right?" Donna grasped his arm across the table. She felt a spark at their sudden contact. She wondered if Eric felt it, too. "We want to try to start over? To be friends?"

"Yeah," Eric swallowed. His voice sounded thick. "Yeah, I don't want to be nothing."

"Okay," Donna squeezed his arm. "Then I'm gonna go to the bathroom, and when I get back we're gonna have a lot of fun together. We're gonna stop fighting. Okay?"

"Okay." He smiled.

The women's restroom was across the banquet hall, and Donna's heels clacked on the pristine white tiles as she entered. There was a long row of sinks with a massive mirror above, and she started to rearrange her hair thoughtlessly. She checked her teeth for lipstick smears and tugged at her dress, pulling it straighter over her breasts. She couldn't help but see herself through Eric's eyes, couldn't help but wonder if she looked pretty to him, if he regretted letting her go, if he was looking forward to jumping her bones when they got home tonight as much as she was.

Their agreement to start the night over again was a good one. She didn't want her fun evening to be tainted with a fight. She didn't want this… arrangement with Eric to feel like their relationship had for the past several months. Like a fight for control. The point was to have fun and to get laid. Right?

Donna nodded at herself in the mirror. When she exited the bathroom, she headed towards the bar to grab them some punch (or some alcohol, if the bartender was cool). But she glanced over at their table as she crossed the room, and stopped in her tracks.

A petite blonde girl with a pixie cut and a pink dress stood with Eric. He was glancing around the room nervously, like he was checking to see if Donna'd left the bathroom yet. Donna dove behind a fake plant as he turned his head towards the bar.

The girl was smiling - Donna analyzed their interaction with a laser focus. Eric was, too. He was blushing, and Donna recognized that tone of voice, the way he batted his eyes. He was flirting. She felt her heart clench unpleasantly.

Her hands balled up into fists. How dare he talk to another girl while they were on a - Donna hesitated. Not a date. It wasn't a date, like she'd reminded him a thousand times. So why did it hurt so damn much to see him even talking to someone else?

But their conversation seemed to be over. The blonde girl walked away, back to her table. Eric watched her go, with an expression that made Donna's heart twist again.

She ignored the feeling, and walked towards the bar. She sized up the bartender. She was an older woman, maybe in her 50's, with a low-cut blouse and an arm full of tattoos. Donna smiled at her. "Two whiskey sours, please," she ordered, confidently.

The bartender studied Donna carefully. "How old are you, hon?"

"18," Donna said sweetly. She held a $10 bill out tantalizingly.

The bartender nodded. "Okay. That'll be $4.50."

Donna returned to their table a few moments later, with two drinks in her hands. She handed one to Eric, and enjoyed the surprised expression on his face.

"How did you - " Eric was awestruck.

She just smirked. "You're welcome."

They sipped their drinks quietly for a few minutes. Most folks were finished with dinner and had downed a drink (or more) by now, and they were heading to the dance floor. The DJ spun tunes appropriate for the crowd, who were mostly people their parents' age. Tom Jones, Neil Diamond, Elvis Presley. They smiled as Mr. and Mrs. Forman waltzed by. They both seemed to be enjoying the open bar.

"So." Donna chewed absently on the tip of her straw. She'd only finished half of her drink, but she could already feel the alcohol coursing through her veins, her cheeks turning red. "Who was she?"

Eric's head snapped up. "W-what?"

Donna nodded across the aisle, at Pixie Cut. Eric gulped.

"Connie. She, ah. Asked me to dance."

"And what did you say?" Donna fought to keep her voice even.

"I said no, Donna," he assured her.

"Why?"

"I - " Eric hesitated. "I don't really know," he admitted after a moment. She met his eyes. Why was her heart suddenly thundering?

Donna quirked her eyebrow at him. "Will you dance with me?" she asked, lowly.

"Donna - you know I hate dancing - "

"That's not what I asked."

A new song started up, and for one of the first times all night, the chords were ones Donna recognized. Her face lit up. "It's Fleetwood Mac!" she exclaimed, as Dreams started to play. They were finally playing some good music. She stood up, dragging Eric with her. "Come on!" She gestured to his drink. "I'll get you another one of those," she bartered.

"Mmm. I think I want something else," he informed her. His eyes were half lidded, and he gave her a leer that made arousal spread quickly through her lower belly.

"Either way," she grinned, grabbing his arm.

She pulled him onto the dance floor and set her arms around his neck in an intimate embrace. They started to sway to the music, and she slowly guided them to the left side of the dance floor. Directly in front of Blonde Pixie Cut's table.


His mom was drunk on the drive home.

They each held a bright, floral centerpiece on their lap - at the end of the night, Kitty had insisted they each take one so she could repurpose them for her Easter display this year. They'd all seemed to enjoy the open bar, and his mom rambled on with gossip about his co-workers while Red chimed in with an occasional grunt or chuckle.

Not that Eric was paying them any attention. Donna was next to him in the backseat, sitting far closer to him than she had on the drive there. Her leg pressed into his, the smell of her hair wafted between them, and their bodies exchanged heat. The two drinks he'd had tonight lowered his inhibitions significantly. He closed his eyes and tried to think about scary things. The vein in Red's neck throbbing while he yelled at him… burying Fluffy in the backyard after he'd run him over… gigantic spiders dancing towards him. Anything to will away an erection.

"I'll say this about Pricemart - they have wonderful Balls!" Kitty exclaimed from the front seat.

That helped.

Eric cleared his throat, but when he glanced at Donna, she was giggling. He smiled. His heart felt just as light. Honestly? They'd had a great night together. It was the most fun he could remember having with her in ages.

"It looked like you kids had a nice time on your date," Kitty laughed. Eric felt Donna stiffen.

"It wasn't a date," they exclaimed, almost at the same time.

"Oh, please," Red and Kitty responded together, both exasperated.

"Mom - "

"We're just friends, Ms. Forman."

Kitty snorted. "I don't dance with my friends like that - "

"Kitty. Let it be," Red suggested, gently. They'd pulled into the driveway, and he put the car into park before turning around and making eye contact with Eric.

Thank you, he tried to will his dad to understand. Thank you for shutting that down. Red nodded, curtly.

"I just hope you know what the hell you're doing," Red finished gruffly. He stood from the car, and now he pulled back the front seat so Eric and Donna could exit too.

Don't worry, Eric thought as he climbed out of the car. I don't.

He and Donna were just friends. Just friends, just friends, just friends he chanted to himself as he held the seat back for her, offered her his hand as she climbed from the car. She'd only said it a thousand times tonight. She'd made it clear - extremely clear - that was all she wanted from him. Friendship. And orgasms.

He swallowed.

They'd reset their friendship tonight, agreeing to have a good time together. And they had. They'd danced (well, at least to the not-lame songs). They'd made up stories about people at the surrounding tables - an old game they used to play on their dates. They'd returned to the buffet for three plates of shrimp. They'd genuinely enjoyed each other's company for the first time in - Eric hesitated. In so long he couldn't remember.

Now they stood on the driveway together, and Donna looked at him, almost shyly. He held up a finger, and kept his gaze trained on the sliding glass door to the kitchen. His parents were inside, and he needed them to leave before he said goodnight to her the way he really wanted to.

"Hold on," he exhaled slowly. Red and Kitty finally ambled through the swinging door to the living room, and Red flicked off the light in the kitchen behind them. Satisfied they had privacy at last, he turned back towards Donna.

"So," Eric approached her, slowly, with a smirk. "How does a Date-That's-Not-A-Date with you end?"

Donna grinned, too. She pretended to be thinking. "Hmm. I don't - "

He stepped closer. "Maybe with a… Kiss-That's-Not-A-Kiss?" Closer still. His whole body was buzzing for her.

"Well…" He was so close now that she reached out and tugged on his tie, pulling his face within inches of hers. Eric could feel the warm, sweet tickle of her breath on his lips when she said, "I mean - I guess we could - "

Eric didn't wait for her to say anything else. His mouth came down over hers with a biting pressure, pulling her body flush against his until she sunk into his embrace. She moaned into his mouth and started to suck on his lower lip. They pulled back a few moments later, and Donna rested her forehead intimately against his.

"Do you wanna come up?" she murmured, gesturing behind them to her house.

"Yeah." His hands skimmed up her hips, to the small of her back. He really, really did.

But his feet were stuck in place. His heart was lodged in his throat. Donna grasped his hand in hers and she tried to tug him towards her backyard, but his body wouldn't move.

"Donna, what are we?" All of the alcohol he'd had tonight made his tongue thick, and his emotional walls come tumbling down. "What are we doing?" He was searching, desperately, for some confirmation that she felt as strongly as he did. Like always.

Donna just quirked her eyebrow at him in that maddening way - the one look he could never quite read.

"Eric. Do you really need me to explain it to you again?" Her words were a little stilted. She was affected, too, by the whiskey.

"I think so," he creased his forehead apologetically.

She exhaled in exaggerated annoyance. "We're friends, Eric."

"Friends who go on dates and have sex?"

Donna rolled her eyes. Her annoyance wasn't flirty anymore - it was real. "Do I need to remind you of our rules?"

He sighed. "No. No, I've got it. No sleepovers," he recited, listing them on his fingers. "No feelings, no one can know, and we're not together."

Eric was glad he'd held his tongue, glad he hadn't just confessed his deepest feelings to her - like he had when he'd given her the promise ring. Donna was serious when she'd returned that, and serious when she'd agreed to their current… arrangement. She wasn't looking for commitment, for a serious long-term relationship. She didn't think about him the same way he thought about her. Eric swallowed hard. Why couldn't he seem to get that through his skull?

"Right," Donna answered him, evenly. "So, you know. You could have danced with the little blonde if you wanted to."

Eric's eyes shot to hers. It was the second time she'd brought up Connie tonight. Slowly, he started to smile with realization.

"You're jealous," he said, in awe. It had been flattering when Connie asked him to dance, but this? God, this felt even better.

"I'm literally telling you I'm not," Donna insisted, but she blushed furiously. His grin widened.

"Uh-huh - "

"Quit smiling!" she demanded shrilly.

"Sorry, Donna. Everyone wants a piece - "

"Eric, shut up." She shoved his shoulder, harder than he expected. He stopped smiling.

Wow. She really was jealous.

He took a step closer to her again.

"Donna, I - "

"So did you?" She interrupted him, quirking an eyebrow. Her demeanor was playful again, yet dangerous at the same time. Taunting. "Want to dance with her? Or do you want - " she trailed off, turned on her heel, and started to walk towards her house. Her hips were swaying. That dress really fit her nice. "Something else?"

Eric swallowed hard, and he made his choice.

As if there was ever one to make.