No One Else on Earth
Author's Notes: This is a simple post-ep for "The Cold." No big deal, really.
Wynona's 'No One Else on Earth' was playing in the elevator when she stepped in and hit the button for the sixth floor. "Great. Just great," she mumbled, hitting the button a second and then a third time.
She looked over at Edie, invading her private pity party. "Hmm…" she said innocently. "Nothing. I just don't care for this song."
Edie listened for a second as though just realizing there was music playing. "Sad to say, I have been this woman."
Donna smiled noncommittally, biting back the scoff in the back of her throat. If she only knew…
"Course," Edie said as though she really couldn't care any less. "Some self-help book somewhere probably says you haven't lived 'til you've thrown away six months on some creep who's never gonna want you back."
The scoff escaped that time. Six months? Edie was an amateur.
"Sorry," Edie said with raised eyebrows.
"It's ok," Donna drew out. "I just wish I'd read the book that said it only had to be six months."
The elevator reached their floor and she sighed as they walked down the hall towards their rooms. When she got to hers, she pulled the key out she'd slid across to Josh just five minutes earlier. "I should've had another drink."
Edie chuckled. "There's always the joy of the mini-bar."
Donna tilted her head as she opened her door. "I do love a good mini-bar."
"Yeah. See you in the morning."
She walked inside the room, neater than most hotel rooms she stayed in. She'd been careful not to leave things lying around. Everything work related was in her attaché case where it wouldn't be a distraction to any workaholics who happened to be there. Her suitcase was unzipped but closed on the luggage rack in the closet, her suit from earlier in the day already hanging neatly on a hanger along with the outfit she'd need in the morning. The alarm was set, the sexiest thing she had with her was in the bathroom along with some bath salts, just in case things took a turn that way, and she didn't have to open the drawer in the night stand to know that there was a box of condoms in it. She even had a bucket of ice in case they wanted to break into the mini-bar.
"Bastard," she mumbled, deliberately kicking off her shoes off into the middle of the room before throwing open her suitcase and pulling out her standard, anything but sexy, pajamas; a white coffee-stained t-shirt that was two sizes too big and a baby blue pair of boxer shorts.
She pulled off the outfit she'd chosen specifically for her seduction. Black and flowing, and with the top two buttons undone, it had been both the least professional and most revealing outfit in her garment bag. She tossed the pants and then the top and jacket in the general vicinity of her suitcase and looked down at the black lace bra and matching skimpy underwear she had underneath. She turned around to look into the mirror and shook her head. "Idiot doesn't know what he's missing."
Those came off too before the t-shirt and boxers went on. No use wearing scratchy clothing just to look good tonight. Her cell rang, but she ignored it and walked into the bathroom, giving the black camisole that was going to substitute as a negligee a nasty look before pulling the hair she'd spent an hour on into a sloppy ponytail and washing the make-up off her face. She was still wearing a necklace and earrings, and she took them off as she walked back into the bedroom, putting them down on the dresser next to the bucket of ice.
"Screw it," she said, unwrapping a plastic cup and filling it with ice before walking to the mini-bar and getting out a can of diet coke and a mini-bottle of Jack Daniels. She poured a lot of Jack and a splash of coke into the cup and sat heavily in the chair in the corner, looking at what would've been the scene of the crime.
She downed her glass and filled it up the same way again before actually letting herself review the latest and greatest of her most humiliating moments. He'd turned her down. After all the innuendos throughout the years, the verbal and non-verbal statements, the break-up and finding their way back… after the kiss, that unbelievably amazing kiss… he's turned her down.
She finished the second drink and leaned over to reach back into the mini-bar. There was another small bottle of Jack, and she pulled it out and twisted off the cap. She took a small swig before pouring the rest of it into her glass, forgoing the diet coke altogether.
She wasn't sure where she'd gone wrong. The kiss had been… she kept going back there, but it was just so damn good. And the apology… she wasn't supposed to believe that, was she? Surely not. Anyone who apologizes while grinning like an idiot and practically bouncing with excitement isn't really sorry, that was just for show. "Stupid apologizer," she mumbled, downing her drink.
She sat there another minute, staring at nothing, then stood up. The room started swaying just the slightest bit and she stood there for a few seconds before walking to the mirror and staring herself down. She snorted, thinking about the looks he gave her all day. "Was I not supposed to see those?" she asked in a sassy voice, shaking her head back and forth like a cheerleader from the hood. "Cause I did."
There was something… she leaned forward, her forehead resting on the glass. But then things were blurry and she leaned back a bit so she could see her nose. "s'that a zit?" she asked herself in disgust.
She stood upright again and headed back for her chair, stopping at the mini-bar on the way. There was no more Jack, so she took a mini-bottle of rum out instead and then grabbed the Snickers bar too. It was always her favorite part of the mini-bar, the three dollar candy bar she could get at the CVS down the street for eighty cents. Which she never did, never. She went to CVS about once a week and never thought to buy a Snickers bar. But get her in a hotel with a mini-bar…
The ice in her glass was almost gone when she reached the table, so she put the other things down and took it back to the ice bucket, filling it back up. She wasn't sure if you were supposed to drink rum with ice in it, but she doubted that it mattered at this point. With the two glasses of wine she'd had downstairs, she was headed for quite the hangover in the morning.
She made it back to the table after tripping on a shoe and then throwing it at the door, and poured some rum and diet coke into her glass. It didn't taste very good, but it would serve its purpose just fine. She took a drink, shaking her head and making what she imagined wasn't a very refined face. Maybe that's why he turned her down. Turned her down. She would forever more be known as the woman Josh Lyman turned down. He never turned down Mandy, never turned down Amy. Or maybe they just didn't take no for an answer.
"I refuse to be Amy Gardner!" she said loudly, quickly looking around the empty room to make sure no one heard her. "I refuse," she mumbled again. If he didn't want to be with her, he didn't want to be with her. There would be no hitting him over the head, no water balloons, no insulting him into action.
There was a soft knock at the door and she snapped her head towards it and sat quietly, wide eyes watching to see if it moved. Another soft knock and she looked around again in confusion before drinking the rest of her glass and then knocking back the rest of the small bottle of rum.
She stood up and stumbled her way to the door, opening it just a crack and seeing Josh in the hallway. She opened it wider and glared at him. "Hey," she said accusingly.
He smiled at her, a cross between a smirk and a shy smile, and 'you can make me want you anytime you want to' played in her head. "Hey," he said softly.
"What are you doin' here?" she asked, summoning up her inner Wynonna.
His eyes widened. "You gave… I thought…" he looked down the hall towards the elevator. "I thought you… invited…"
"You turned me down," she said loudly, cutting him off. 'No one else on earth could ever hurt me, break my heart the way you do.'
He looked back at her quickly. "No I…"
"Yes you did!" She held up her empty hand. "I've got the key right here!"
He stared at her hand for a second before ignoring her and walking into the room past her. She continued holding the door open but looked back at him, appalled. "You… uhh… you can't…" she stammered, her mouth opened wide.
He continued into the room. "I tried to call you and explain. I thought you might be…" he stopped suddenly when his eyes landed on the table. "Getting drunk?" he squeaked, turning around and looking at her.
"I… I can…" she stopped talking and stomped her foot. "I refuse to be Amy Gardner!" It seemed important, but suddenly she wasn't sure why. Maybe some more rum would help.
His eyes squinted in confusion and he tilted his head. "What?"
She looked at him for a second and then threw her hands up in the air. "I don't know. It made sense a few minutes ago."
He smirked, almost laughed actually, and walked slowly up to her, taking her face in his hands and tilting her chin up so he could look into her eyes. Which only made it easier to look into his chocolate ones. 'You broke into my soul.' "You're completely wasted."
She started to smile, to lean in to him. Maybe he'd kiss her again. But then she remembered, or thought she did, and she shook her head free of his hands. "Wynonna! That's who I refuse to be. Wynonna."
"Ok," he said nodding, as if talking to a child.
"Just so we're clear."
"We're clear." He took her face in his hands again, tilting her head just slightly and kissing her lightly on the lips. "You're cute when you're drunk. I've always thought so."
She leaned into him, closing her eyes and 'mmm'-ing. 'Your love is killing me and it ain't over yet.'
He kissed her again, still softly, still chastely. "It's time for bed, I think." Her eyes snapped open and she groaned. "What?" he asked, laughing.
She buried her head in her hands. "I propositioned you."
"Yes, you did," he said, a smirk in his voice.
She looked up at him and hit him in the chest. "You turned me down."
"I'm a very beautiful woman." She turned and looked into the mirror at her stained t-shirt and barely controlled hair. "Well, usually."
He laughed again. "You are a beautiful woman," he said, taking her hand and walking her to the bed. "Always."
"Didn't get to the key as fast as Edie and Ronna did," he said, pulling back the covers and turning her so she was in front of the bed, then pushing her slowly down into a sitting position.
She squinted in confusion, looking up at him. "So, you…"
"Wanted to come up here and make love to you. Yes."
A smile lit her face followed quickly by a frown. "But now I'm drunk," she said, her bottom lip sticking out.
"Yes," he said while smiling and pushing her into a lying position. "You've kind of ruined the night."
"And I might have a zit on my nose."
"I could've worked around that."
"But," she tried to sit back up, but half way fell down again. "What took you so long to get here? I was sober for a while."
He pulled a box of condoms out of his pocket and waved it in front of her. "Drug store."
"I have a box too," she said, motioning towards the nightstand.
He pulled the covers up over her, sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned down to kiss her again. "We'll use them," he mumbled against her lips. She snaked her arms around his neck as she slipped her tongue inside his mouth, and he kissed back for just a few seconds before pulling away.
"I'm a little sober," she said with wide, hopeful eyes.
He chuckled. "Not really."
"No," she said with a large sigh. "Not really."
He kissed her forehead and she closed her eyes. "Night."
"Night," she mumbled back. She felt the bed move as he got up and a few seconds later the room went dark. She rolled onto her side, scooping her pillow up with one arm and kicking one leg out to the side. A light from the hallway hit her face and she squinted one eye open. "You're leaving?"
He looked back at her from the door. "Yeah."
"Kay," she said, closing her eyes again. "But I'll be sober in the morning."
There was a pause and then the door closed and she heard him trip over something and then hit his knee on the bed as he tried walking around to the other side of it. A minute after that, he was crawling into bed and sliding over to share her pillow, his arm resting around her waist and his chest warm on her back. "You're pretty smart for a drunk," he whispered against her hair.
She snuggled back against him, his breath blowing hot on her neck and making her shiver. He pulled her tighter against him and kissed her shoulder. 'No one can love me like, no one can love me like you.'