Title: Tension (1/1)

Author: Michelle K. (CageyGrl@yahoo.com)

Rating: PG-13

Archive: If you want. Ask first.

Pairing: Margaret/Donna

Summary: Margaret feels tense. Donna's presence isn't helping.

Disclaimer: Characters are the sole property of ABS, WB and NBC, not necessarily in that order.

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Margaret never really feels comfortable at these things - she's not sure what it is about formal events, but they always seem to put knots in her stomach.

The clothes always seem too tight and revealing, the people always seem too fake and over-enthusiastic, and she always seems too out-of-place.

She's always worried about drawing attention to herself; looking like a fool in front of a large group. So she usually blends into the background, watches the people mingle.

At the moment, Leo is talking to a Senator, with a sense of exasperation that is palpable to the casual observer. Josh is flirting with some woman, a woman Sam had been flirting with earlier.

And then, there's Donna.

She's not sure when she began thinking of Donna as a separate entity - as something apart from the group. As something special. But it happened somewhere along the way, in-between all these fundraisers and days in the office. Somehow, she morphed from Donna's friend to Donna's apprehensive secret admirer. Donna hasn't seemed to notice, which is the only blessing in this strange crush-like state that makes her feel distinctly like a twelve-year-old staring at a poster of N'Sync.

And stare she does. After all, Donna hasn't noticed. And doesn't seem to notice, even as Margaret lets her eyes linger on the spaces of skin that the dark blue dress doesn't cover. Even as her eyes linger on the spaces of skin that the dress does cover. Like her breasts, and the inside of her thighs.

Margaret takes a deep breath and looks away for a moment. She's not even close to losing composure, but she still doesn't want these thoughts overrunning her brain.

When she looks back, Donna still looks beautiful. She's laughing now, and she lights up. For the first time, Margaret notices the man she's talking to. Tall, good-looking enough, she supposes. He looks vaguely familiar, and she's not sure if he's a lobbyist, lawyer, lawmaker, or none of the above. But she doesn't really care about him, except in a vaguely jealous way.

So her eyes move back to Donna. No longer laughing, but still smiling. She's good at these things, Margaret thinks. She's good at mixing with a crowd and making it look effortless. She's good at pretending.

'Maybe she doesn't find that guy so funny after all,' Margaret thinks, and she gets too much delight from the idea of Donna being stuck with a boring conversationalist. Because, then, Margaret could sweep in gallantly and save her from her misery. Donna would be grateful and--

Margaret sighs again. She sucks in her stomach, but she can still feel the fabric hugging onto her skin.

She takes a sip of her drink, and she's sure that she looks more sophisticated than she feels. It's her third gin and water combo - not a lot, but enough to make her think that looking at Donna one last time wouldn't hurt.

And when she does, her eyes meet Donna's. Donna nods her head, and Margaret freezes. She's sure Donna can see the imprint of desire on her face, and this isn't something she needs. Especially not with a crowd around.

Margaret turns, body tensing. She shouldn't feel so embarrassed. Donna probably didn't notice anything, she rationalizes. Still, she purposely walks into the crowd, wanting to lose herself until Donna forgets anything she possibly could've noticed.

She goes out a back door. Just for some fresh air, just to get away from the crush of people, just to keep from staring at a friend as if she were a lover. The air is cool against her skin, and her arms instinctively fold around her. She wonders if there's a place she could go to relax in the immediate vicinity.

She decides no, and leans against the wall. Realizing the drink is still in her hand, she leans forward to put it on the ground. When she's standing again, the door is closing behind Donna. Margaret wraps her arms around herself again.

"What are you doing out here?" Donna asks her. She seems concerned.

"Just getting fresh air," she answers. "I like air," she adds lamely.

Donna smiles. "You've been drinking a little, haven't you?" And Margaret wonders if she should be happy that her goofy comment is being chalked up to a drunken musing.

"A little," she concedes. "But I still like air." But Donna's body is just inches from hers, so she can barely suck in the much-discussed oxygen.

"Oh." She pauses. "Didn't you see me in there?"

Margaret looks at her as if she has no clue what she's talking about. "Why?"

"I wanted to introduce you to this guy I was talking to. I thought I'd caught your eye, but then you just disappeared."

"Oh. I guess I didn't see you, then." Margaret eases for a moment at the knowledge that Donna's still completely clueless.

"Oh. So, you having a good time?"

Margaret shrugs. "I guess. I'm not one for these things, really."

Donna looks at her as if she just said the strangest thing in the world. This amuses Margaret, considering their shared ability to say much odder things. "Why come if you don't like it?"

"It's not that I don't like it," Margaret answers quickly. "I just don't feel comfortable in large groups."

"More of a one-on-one kind of girl, huh?"

She ignores the double entendre. It probably wasn't even intentional. "I guess," she shrugs. "But I do like the people watching opportunities."

"Hmm." Donna moves closer to her, leaning right next to her on the wall. "And what's so interesting about people? Or watching them, rather."

"Depends," Margaret says. "Everyone's different. That's what makes it interesting." She's starting to stammer because she can feel the warmth of Donna's body. And she can imagine the warmth pressed hard against her.

"Yeah," Donna agrees, her breath falling softly against Margaret's cheek.

"Like Leo, he usually looks irritated during these things, like there's something more important he could be doing. Which is true a lot of the time, I guess," she's still stammering, and Donna's still warm, "and Josh is usually working the room, smirking at his own comments. And you're usually--" Beautiful, stunning, gorgeous, sexy, the object of desire. "--at ease."

"That's all?" Donna says. She seems disappointed.

Margaret shrugs. "All that comes to mind," she lies.

Donna's silent for a moment, then leans her head dangerously close to Margaret's. "Could I ask you something? I mean, whatever the answer is, I don't want you to feel embarrassed." Her voice is low, making it sound secretive and alluring.

Margaret's nervous, but she doesn't want it to show. "Sure."

"Were you watching me in there?"

Margaret blinks. "How do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. You were staring at me. Was there a reason for that? I'm just curious."

It's not accusatory at all, more like something someone would say before ripping a person's clothes off. She has a sudden flash of Donna's hands against her skin, and she can barely think.

Maybe it's the fact that she's had a few drinks, maybe it's wishful thinking, maybe it's the way the dim moonlight reflects on her hair; but Margaret is semi-convinced that Donna is trying to seduce her.

"Well, I..." Margaret begins, not sure of what the next words will be. "I was. Staring at you."

"I know," Donna says. She brushes her fingers against Margaret's forearm. "I saw you. I've seen you do it before." Her eyes dart to the ground, then back up again. "Is there a reason for that?" she asks again.

"I think you're the most amazing woman I've ever seen," she replies softly.

Donna blinks in surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah," she says. Staring into Donna's face, honest and clear and everything she's dreamed of, Margaret begins to feels some of her own defenses falling away.

Donna leans closer to her. "You're not too bad yourself, you know," she replies.

Margaret brushes her lips against Donna's. To her delight, Donna doesn't move away.

"No," Donna says softly.

Margaret pulls back quickly, the tension returning to every part of her body. "I'm sorry," she stammers.

"I didn't mean..." Donna begins, her voice trailing off into the air. "What I mean is, we shouldn't do this here. We should..." Her words drift off again, and Margaret wonders if the thought will ever be finished. "We should get a cab," she says finally, words quick and to the point. "We should go to your place, though, since my roommate's probably at my apartment with her boyfriend."

Donna's eyes fix on her, and Margaret is acutely aware of how quiet it is. She can tell Donna's waiting for an answer, and she doesn't understand why no words are coming out of her mouth. Then, she realizes why. It's that tension, settling heavy against her stomach, keeping her from doing what she wants. But, part of her pushes ahead, part of her lets her lips open, lets a simple, "Yes," dance to Donna's ear.

Donna smiles. "I'll meet you out front." She kisses her on the cheek, letting her lips linger long enough to keep it from being a 'between friends' thing.

Margaret simply nods. As Donna leaves, Margaret watches the slight sway of her hips and feels a new emotion begin to settle against her skin.

For the first time of the night, she feels completely relaxed.

THE END