Eddie Carmichael (goldenplatedlie) wrote in the100, @ 2015-09-02 22:01:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread, donna noble, eddie carmichael |
Who: Donna and Eddie
When: Thursday or Friday, 27 or 28 August
Where: Eddie's room
What: They talk about things. Fighting things.
Rating: PG-13 because of language, and also a fade to black and implied sexytimes. COMPLETE.
Another fight was coming, and Donna Noble wasn't sure where she placed in it. She wasn't a fighter, and she wasn't a medic. The only thing she was able to do was assist in the hospital, to ensure that the staff had coffee and food and supplies, to make sure everything was in order and that they had a plan when patients were inevitably admitted. There was no getting around it at this point: people were going to get hurt, and no one was able to change it. The best-case scenario was that an attack didn't happen, but no one actually believed that. If it didn't happen now, it would happen later. Sitting and waiting wasn't something she was good at. She bustled, she worked, she prepared, and when she ran out of things to do she sat in on Eddie's werewolf defense class, warily watching from the back of the room with her arms folded across her chest. It just had to come down to killing, didn't it. When the meeting ended and the others left, Donna was left waiting for him. "Is this your way of making up for last time?" she asked bluntly, without even saying hello. Eddie walked, flipping through papers in a folder. It was absolutely necessary that everyone had all of the necessary information. If anyone were injured, it wouldn't be because they didn't know something. In fact, he'd talked so much that his throat was sore, and a real cup of tea would be akin to ambrosia. He'd settle for coffee, though. He hadn't seen Donna arrive, didn't know she was still in the room, waiting for him. Her question startled him, and he looked up, mental gears grinding as he forced himself to process her question. "I'm doing my job." His temper was fraying; he was curt and short with almost everyone, and Eddie was frightened. Dread hung over him like a cloak, and even walks outside in the late-August sunshine couldn't help him shake the feeling that the coming battle was going to be a disaster. "Oi." Donna frowned. She knew when a man was distracted and afraid, because it just meant he was angry and difficult and snappish. It was unfair to blame that on men — Donna snapped when she was afraid, too, puffing herself up with anger and indignation so no one poked at her vulnerable places. "I'm worried about you, don't brush me off like I'm nobody." The last time there was a werewolf attack, Eddie had caused it. He'd stepped away from his post for a moment, and the werewolf had been released. People had died, Eddie had been badly hurt. He'd been blaming himself since it happened, it had colored every part of his mood. Donna couldn't help thinking that his dedication to this wasn't purely professional. Eddie stared at Donna for a moment, then sighed. He rubbed his hand over his face. She had every right to worry. From the moment their relationship had tipped from flirty and fun into the more serious realm of oh-fuck-I-could-love-her, she'd had the right to worry, and to call him out on his surly attitude. "I wish you'd go into the prison on Saturday. I'd feel better knowing you were safer." His hand ran over his head, through his hair to rest on the back of his neck. "Will you get a coffee with me?" Donna shrugged, folding her arms. "You can wish, but I'm no safer there than in medical. That's where I was asked to be, so that's where I'll be." She was just as afraid, but being up and useful felt better than being in the prison waiting. Sitting and waiting was not something she handled well, and at least now she felt like she had some important hand in matters. Her expression softened, and she tipped her head toward the door. "Let's go. Coffee. We'll talk." He hadn't actually answered her question, and she doubted that he would -- maybe not now, maybe not ever. She knew this was personal for Eddie, but getting him to actually say it was another matter entirely. Eddie reached for Donna's hand, deliberately missed so he could wrap his arm around her waist. What he'd intended to be a bit of teasing in an attempt to throw her off his trail turned into a hug as he wrapped his arms around her, and squeezed. He held onto her, turning his head to nuzzle her hair. She was soft, and warm, and had that backbone of steel that he admired. There was so much about Donna Noble that Eddie admired, and it only began with her curves and smile. "I know, you'll do what you want, but I had to try, love." He was tempted to turn their embrace into teasing, but it was so comforting just holding her that he didn't. The room was empty, except for him, so stealing a kiss was as simple as pressing his mouth to hers. "I can't wait until this is over. I might request to work in the brewery." Donna leaned in for another kiss, giving his chest a light, reassuring pat. She was more than just fond of him, even though they had been taking time with their courtship. They hadn't hopped into bed with each other, which was getting more and more frustrating the more time she spent with him. She felt her heart race whenever she was alone with him, whenever he winked at her in the hall. One of these days she was going to steal him for some proper alone time. But he had been hurt, and dealing with the werewolf business, and it just wasn't the time. "Maybe you should," she said. "I know you're acting like this is just your fight, and your fault for what happened in the prison. But it's not, Eddie. That one was a spy, but they've been planning to attack all along. You don't have anything to make up for." That kind of emotional involvement was dangerous. If Eddie felt he he had something to prove, he would do something reckless and stupid. He sighed, drawing his hands up to rest on her shoulders, and then up further to cup Donna's jawline loosely. He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. "It became about more than keeping everyone safe in case there were more werewolves, the moment they set up camp. It went from personal to... Merlin, I don't know. Dangerous doesn't begin to quantify it." They were in genuine danger now, and Eddie felt that he had once more taken up the mantle of Auror in a way he hadn't really done since he and Megan had broken up. He was allowing it to consume him, to become the central focus of his life. And he hated it. Every moment he spent telling people how to fight, the best ways to save their lives, he hated. He literally dreamed of his father's fishing boat, of the calmness and serenity that was to be found on the water, and woke up disgusted. "When this is over, I'm done. Potter can be the resident Auror. I'll find something else to do." He said this, and calmness descended. It was the only choice he had that would bring any peace. He kissed Donna again, deeply. "Stay with me tonight, Donna. Please." Donna kissed him back, sliding her arms around his waist and giving him a little tug to pull him in close. "I can do that," she said softly. She couldn't offer advice on how to kill werewolves, or battle tactics, but not everyone needed that. Sometimes, people needed to focus on people, and stop focusing on the war. She nuzzled him, letting her eyes drift shut. "When this is over, you give up fighting. You don't have to fight to be worth something. You know that, yeah?" Eddie nodded, catching her lower lip between his teeth and gently grazing before letting it go. “I’m going to give up fighting when this is done. I mean it.” He pulled back a little, just enough to look her in the eyes. He meant it; carrying the world on his shoulders wasn’t what he was meant to do. That was left for the Harry Potters of the world, the heroes. He’d had his fun and now it was time to settle into his life. That it was here in the apocalypse didn’t matter one damn bit. He would make his life here, and he would be happy, and with any luck he’d be happy with the woman he held in his arms. Eddie stepped away to pick up his folder, then wrapped Donna’s hand in his. They’d eat, and then find themselves cuddled up for whatever, and he’d let her pick apart his brain. Donna squeezed his hand and smiled, tugging him out of the room. He didn't need to fight. So many people here put such an emphasis on whether someone could fight, whether they were capable of taking down enemies in a battle. That was all well and good, but there was more to life than combat, more to life than powers. There had to be something to fight for. People needed to be cared for, needed to be more than toy soldiers on a battlefield. After having a little bit to eat, Donna followed Eddie to his room and sank down on his bed to curl up against him. "Eddie, I've just got one thing to say to you," she said, running her fingertips over his hand. "Don't do anything stupid just because you feel like you did something wrong before." He’d divested himself of his trousers and socks and was clad only in boxers and a t-shirt, and with Donna tucked against him as they reclined against the pillows, he felt himself finally relaxing. Marginally. He huffed in laughter, turning his hand over press his palm to hers. “Only one thing? Did something get your tongue, Donna?” He grinned at her, teasing and squeezing her hand. “You’re going to have to define stupid, love. It’s got a broad range for me, you know.” He caught her hand up, bringing it to his mouth to press a kiss to her knuckles. “I’ll do my job, but I’ll come back to you.” Out of the corner of his eye a shadow crossed the room; he looked in that direction, and the lights flickered, as they sometimes did. That was all it was, not some ominous shape, just the lights fucking with him. He shook his head and tilted it, intending on leaning down and kissing her until they both weren’t thinking of anything else, and instead admitted, quietly, “I’m frightened.” Donna had leaned up for that kiss, had expected Eddie to use those kisses as a distraction. Her husband and children in a computer-generated reality aside, it had been a long time since she'd not just had a boyfriend, but since she'd been wanted. Whenever she dated, she felt like she was pushing for attention, pushing for more commitment, pushing for more. Eddie wasn't like that. Eddie actually seemed to like her for her, want her for her, rather than going along with the motions because she demanded them. That was how things had gone with Lance, and even though she knew she'd been a target all along for him to use her in a nefarious plot, she still felt that if she'd done something better, maybe it wouldn't have gone that way. Maybe he'd have loved her enough to stop. She'd been ready to marry him — but it wasn't until weeks and months later when she really considered it that she realized that she'd been willing to marry him without really knowing him, without feeling like they liked the same things, or like she had his unconditional support. No, she'd insisted on getting married because he was a handsome, sweet man and she was pushing forty, and it was unacceptable to stay single. But then there was Eddie, and within just a few months of knowing him she felt she knew more about him than she'd ever known of Lance, and she never felt the need to push him for anything more than what he was already giving her. And Eddie — loudmouthed, obnoxious Eddie — was opening up to her and admitting he was afraid. "You probably should be," Donna said quietly, lightly nudging him with her nose instead of kissing him. "Look at what you think you're up against. If you weren't scared I'd think there was something broken in you." “That’s --” Eddie started, and stopped. “It’s not that. I’m -- frightened, dreading whatever’s coming. I keep --” He snapped his mouth shut, sighing heavily. “I keep seeing this shadow, out of the corner of my eye. Like a big dog.” Donna frowned, lifting her head. She looked past Eddie's shoulder, then behind her. "Dog? What do you mean, a big dog?" Eddie fell back against the pillows, and groaned softly. “I think I’m seeing the Grim. I think I’m going to die in the fight against the werewolves.” He looked at her, worry etched over his face. Everyone took the Grim seriously, although everyone pretended not to. The large, black, spectral dog was said to be an omen of death, and for days Eddie had been seeing a fleeting black shadow out of the corner of his eye, sometimes looking like a very large dog. Most times he just told himself it was his imagination playing tricks on him, but it had been getting worse. He hadn’t intended on telling Donna, but it sort of just seemed to be spilling out anyway. Donna frowned. "What is that, some kind of omen?" she asked, giving his shirt a little tug. "What makes you think you're going to die?" She wanted to shake him, tell him stop that, because she wasn't going to let him die, not under any circumstances. “It’s a death omen,” Eddie said dully, wrapping her hand in his. “When you see the Grim, it means you’re going to die. And I’ve been seeing it bloody everywhere.” Eddie was, in fact, sure that he was going insane. He had grown up, like most magical children, with stories about the Grim and other omens that meant certain death, or wealth, or health, or any number of things. And he’d always brushed it off as superstition, clap-trap that kept people like Trelawney or Lavender Brown buying books on divination. But this… this had him worried. Donna wrapped his hand in both of hers. She wanted to protest, say that it was probably a superstition, that even if Grims were real, this wasn't Eddie's world, so how could it be here? That didn't change the fact that Eddie was seeing it, that he felt like he wasn't going to survive the weekend. "Yeah? And?" she scowled, starting to sit up. "Are you just going to take that?" “What I’m going to do is fight the bastards,” Eddie replied, remaining where he was. She was getting worked up and would start telling him what he was going to do any second, and he couldn’t even conjure a smile. “But… but if it’s going to happen, there’s nothing I can do to stop it, not really.” Good old Scots pragmatism seeped through sometimes, courtesy of his dad’s side of the family, and in situations like these, it was always stronger than normal. "Well, it's not going to bloody happen." Donna was adamant about it. Omens didn't mean anything if you didn't give them any credit, and she was sure that if anyone was going to kick Fate in the teeth, it was Eddie. "What do you care what some imaginary dog tells you?" “I care because it’s not just a thing I’ve made up,” Eddie told her. “I care because divination is real, some parts of it. Some parts are really just gimmicks to sell books. But things like this… Donna, I live in a magical world, where I can cause water to flow from the end of my wand, or change a tortoise into a teacup. If I can do things like that…” He shrugged. Dread still sat like a weight in his stomach. “I don’t want to die. I just feel like… something terrible’s going to happen.” "Do you want to know what I think?" It didn't matter what Eddie wanted, because Donna was going to tell him anyway. "I don't care where you come from. You're not there. You're here. And even if you were at home, with all your magic, are you really going to let some omen tell you what's going to happen to you? If you think it, it'll happen. If you start thinking you're going to die, you're going to let it happen. You're going to give up because you knew it was coming all along. So that's not what's going to happen, Eddie. You're going to fight, and if you're hurt, you're going to keep fighting. You're not going to give up because a Grim says you're supposed to." Eddie laughed, finally, because she’d done exactly as he thought she’d do, and it delighted him. “I’m not there, but if the rules of magic still apply here, then the rules of omens apply, too. I don’t want to die, and I certainly won’t be helping anything out to make sure I die. I’ll be extra-vigilant, that I do know.” Reaching out, Eddie tugged Donna down towards him. “Hey. Listen to me. I’m not going into the fray thinking that this is it, that I’m going to catch the final Knight Bus, all right?” He’d simply needed to confide in someone, and he couldn’t think of anyone here he could do so, so easily, than Donna. “I’m sorry that I’m worrying you, love.” "Worrying me?" Donna huffed. "No. You're not, because I know you're going to be fine. And there's no arguing with me on that." Eddie wrapped his arms around her, then rolled them over, pinning her to the bed. “I don’t worry you, not even a little?” He leaned down to kiss her. “I won’t tell.” Oh. Oh. Donna let out a breath and grinned, doing her best to suppress the absolutely delighted yelp that came from being tackled and pinned. A little of it still escaped, a surprised noise that said yes, please, and she readily kissed him back. "No," she murmured. "Not even a little." “Liar,” Eddie said fondly, letting his hands roam, along with his mouth. He’d at least give them both this, in case the worst happened. And beyond that, he cared for Donna, really cared. He cared in that way that spelled love, and friendship, and desire. She wasn’t his type, or at least she wasn’t what he had considered his type. But types change, especially when in close quarters and you learn to know someone and how they tick and the beauty that shines in their heart and soul takes over, and Eddie couldn’t imagine Donna any other way than curvy and mouthy and loud, and he didn’t want her any other way. And he had plans for her, that included showing her all the ways he delighted in all of her. Donna could have melted under his touch, draping her arms over his shoulders and coaxing him into kiss after kiss — but as his hands started to wander, as his mouth started to wander, Donna felt a sudden twinge of anxiety. Suddenly, she was no longer focused on Eddie's kisses or the sound of his breathing, but on a crack in the ceiling. "Eddie," she said after a moment, once she knew that staying quiet and ignoring things wasn't an option. "Oi, sunshine." She pressed her hands to his chest and pushed him back, just a bit. "I need you to do something for me." Eddie stopped, lifting himself away from Donna and looking down at her. “I’m listening.” Donna stared at him for a moment. She hadn't actually expected him to stop. In fact, she'd actually expected him to kiss her and shut her up, and then she'd give up on talking for a while. How was she supposed to say this? "Tell me you're real," she said quietly. "I … tell me you're not having me on, or using me." She knew he wasn't, but she'd fallen for charming and handsome before. She'd fallen for a man rather out of her league before. It almost got her killed and doomed all life on Earth. Eddie blinked, wondering if she was kidding. But no -- it was there, in her eyes. That hint of uncertainty, of caution because she’d been hurt before, and she didn’t want to be again. He understood as well as he was able. “I’m real, Donna. I’m not using you, I’m not having you on.” He was quiet then, trying to find words to tell her just how much he felt for her. “I’m here with you because I want to be. There is nobody else I would rather be with, and no one else who makes me laugh like you do. I care for you, and right now I want to make love to you. Very badly.” Donna reached up, lightly touching his cheek. She felt her stomach twist with the sort of fluttered nervousness that she hadn't felt in a very long time. She swallowed hard, nodding, and leaned up for a harsh kiss. She only pulled back again when she was breathless, when she felt like she'd die if she didn't touch more of him. "Well?" she asked, grinning faintly. "What are you waiting for?" |