This was written as an entry to the Louden Swain Bang, courtesy of @mrswhozeewhatsis. Hope this is alright. If you love it, leave a comment?
Title: Never An Option
Author: Toastiel
Word Count: 1201
Genre: General
Pairing: Chuck/Donna (Chonna)
Rating:T
Song: Change the Locks
Summary: He ruins everything he touches. Everything except her.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
It was always nice when things went according to plan, when there were no bumps in the road or hiccups to worry about.
Not that Chuck would know what that felt like. He was used to setbacks. Hell, a bump in the road would be nice once in awhile compared to the catastrophic failure that had become so commonplace. His entire existence was one failure after another. He’d failed at being God, he’d sure as hell failed at being a father figure. He’d failed as a writer, and he’d kinda failed at creation (though he did place part of that blame on his conniving, vindictive twin). Then, to make it all come full circle, he’d failed at being a failure and returned to being God. Most days he wasn’t even sure if he was winning or losing or just standing out in left field waiting for the ball to smack him in the face.
The only exception, he thought, was her. He hadn’t failed with her, at least not yet. He prayed to himself that he never would, because losing her would be it for him. For someone that was supposed to be omnipotent, Chuck had been completely blindsided when Donna Hanscum had sauntered into his life, all smiles and sunshine. Maybe it was the fact that she was so opposite him, so optimistic and full of energy. Maybe it was her constant reassurance to everyone around her that things would work out, or maybe it was the fact that, despite all of this, she was just as broken inside as he was. She just did a better job of hiding it.
Regardless of why, Donna had situated herself firmly in his life and in his heart, and Chuck would be damned if he gave her up without a fight. He’d given up too much already.
Not her. Never her.
~
He wanted to scream, to rage, to make the entire universe quake with the power of his fury.
It was ruined. All of it, ruined. Weeks of planning the perfect evening, of prepping, of making sure that every last detail was as perfect as it could possibly be (because she deserved nothing less for her birthday), all down the drain, and for what?
Doug fucking Kantos.
Chuck should have known things couldn’t just go smoothly, he should have be prepared for the conniving little snake to appear (it always did, after all). Still, he let out a heavy sigh of bone deep wariness, nothing could have ever prepared him for this, which was saying something because, hell, he’d raised Lucifer and Gabriel.
He should have smote the smug bastard where he stood, he fumed as he paced the library of the bunker. He should have just reached out and smote the shit out of him. One look at the man had told Chuck all he needed to know, and the look in Donna’s eyes had cemented the notion that he was a vile, repugnant, little cockroach. He should have spared the world (and the poor woman on his arm) some trouble and wiped the jackass from existence.
Instead, he’d taken Donna’s hand and turned her around, whisking them back home.
‘You ran,’ he chastised himself as he shook his head. ‘You ran like you always do, because you're a coward. No wonder she doesn’t want to look at you. I don’t want to look at you.
The mirror over on one of the lower bookcases he’d been glaring into shattered, the tinkling of glass falling to the concrete floor echoing throughout the suddenly too quiet room. He’d never heard a sound that perfectly resembled his life before, but if one existed, that was it; the sound of bitter disappointment, despair, and self-loathing.
“Aaaaargh!” Chuck roared, the entire building trembling from the force of it. He pointedly ignored the Winchesters as they appeared to assess the problem. He chose instead to slam his fist into the nearest wall, the pain radiating up his arm and helping to dull the ache in his chest.
It was all his fault. He was losing her because he wasn’t good enough to keep her, and they both knew it. With a huff of irritation, he vanished. He needed to calm down, to think, and he couldn’t risk hurting the few people that cared about him in the process.
He never saw her watch him leave.
~
He sure as hell hadn’t been expecting her to be there waiting when he came back either, but there she was, sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, wrapped up in her fuzzy pink bathrobe with her bunny slippered feet tucked up underneath her. It almost looked normal.
“Feel better?” Something was off about her tone and it tore at something deep inside him.
“Not really.” He sighed, running one hand through his already mussed curls.
She sighed and stood, taking slow, shuffling steps toward him. He could see she’d been crying. Her eyes were puffy, her cheeks were blotchy, and her nose was red. Even so, she was still one of the most beautiful things in existence. His heart clenched at the realization that he was the reason for her tears. He’d hurt her. He’d made her cry, and he couldn’t forgive himself for that.
“Donna, I-”
“Stop,” she whispered, pressing one warm finger to his lips. “Stop thinking so loud. Stop beating yourself up. Stop blaming yourself. Just...stop, Chuck.”
He let out a whoosh of air, his entire body deflating as the anger he’d been carrying just slipped away.
“Let’s go to bed.” She smiled warmly at him, her brown eyes glimmering in the florescent lighting.
“But I-”
“Shush.” Donna sat her cup on the island and took one of his hands between both of hers, still warm from the cup. “There’s plenty of time to talk tomorrow. Now, bed.”
“Just like that? You’re not...I left and...I ran...I’m…”He didn’t know how to actually voice his fears.
“Oh, no, I am. I ate half a bag of Dean’s powdered doughnuts, and two of Gabriel’s chocolate bars he thinks I don’t know about. That’s on you, so you betcha I’m not a happy camper, Charles Shurley, but I’m tired, so we’ll talk about it in the morning.”
“Bu-”
“Bed. Now.”
Feeling for all the world like a scolded child, Chuck hung his head, letting her lead him by the hand to the room they shared. He supposed it could have been worse, and come morning he could very well be spending the next month in the dog house, but he had her. Even with all his self-pitying and his temper tantrums and his insecurities, he still had her. If she could weather the storm that was Chuck Shurley, he had hope that losing her would never be an issue.
“Hey,” he whispered as they snuggled down beneath the blankets, his nose pressed into her hair.
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
“For?”
“For being here.”
“Here is right where I want to be, silly.” Donna muttered sleepily, fighting back a yawn. “Now, for the last time, shush and go to bed.”
He pulled her flush against him, the warmth of her seeping into his flesh and bones and chasing away the cold that had taken over. He’d be better, fight harder, prove he deserved her. He had to.
