Notes: I don't know about you, but I wanted, just a tiny bit of their date not date explored. Even just a smidge. xx
Worthy 1/1 'Bad Faith Episode Add-on' By Atheniandream
"We have breakfast at Nougatine and an excursion to Hermes that may or may not involve a new handbag."
Suddenly the clouds have opened up,
And I've been seen in all of my glory,
The Time has come for fate to decide,
If a part of me is even worthy.
As Donna peered out of the corner of her eye, traffic passing by them slowly, she noticed that there was something overly calm about Harvey; like he had something else up his sleeve that he wasn't telling her, something missing in the moment. It was like a sixth sense with her, that hunch that he had something that he wasn't going to give up for a second but that she was certain existed, locked in the back of his head. She didn't want to press him further given their tenuous relationship of late, but she had been shocked that he had come to her apartment again; reservation waiting and excursion planned. It had been so long since they'd done this, almost as long as Mike had been working at the firm that she'd thought that their relationship would forever exist in the tense state that it had been in lately.
As they made their way up through Manhattan to Central park, the realisation of how different it felt swept through her mind. It shouldn't have felt different; it wasn't the first time they'd had dinner, or lunch together… but, breakfast?
They'd only ever had breakfast once...
She looked over to Harvey, who had remained strangely silent during their ride.
"You're quiet," She remarked, giving him that look she did when he unnerved her slightly.
"No...just, thinking." He said carefully.
"About?" She asked.
"Just… things." He replied, completely poker faced.
"Okay, Mister what's going on?" She suddenly poked his chest, irritated.
He erupted in a confused grin, eyes widening as he shook his head. "What?" He asked.
"You're being weird. The cars, turning up this morning, making a reservation without my help? What's going on with you?"
"I can make a reservation. It's not that hard."
"Harvey," She warned.
"I told you, we need to… relax, celebrate the win. Is that really so bad?" He asked.
"Ah," She finally said, the vowel drawn out as the realisation hit her.
She finally realised. It never took too long with him...
"What?" He asked.
"Because of yesterday…" She sighed.
"What do you mean?" He frowned.
"You could have just said, Harvey." She noted, shaking her head at him as she waited for the car to stop completely outside Trump Tower.
"Said what?" He asked, getting out of his side, watching her red hair pop out above the roof of the car.
She found herself smiling as he came to meet her on the side walk.
"That you wanted to celebrate the win together. Yesterday, at the car? You could have just...asked me." She reminded him.
"I didn't think it was...appropriate then." He relinquished.
"But playing hookey from work this morning is?" She couldn't help but widen her smile and wonder absent mindedly what Mike would think if he could steal himself away from Rachel long enough to read the text that Harvey'd probably already sent him this morning.
"I'm a Managing Partner now," He said, as if enough of a valid excuse.
"Taking his assistant out to lunch," She reminded him.
"Breakfast. If you don't want to go then we can-" He started to turn. Her hand caught his jacket, stilling them both. She smoothed the fabric back down, letting go as he watched her.
"I'm not saying that. I just…"
"What Donna, what are you saying?" He finally said, the irk evident in his voice as his eyes bore into hers.
"You know what, never mind." She said, shaking her head. There was no use telling him, he'd never understand… "I'm hungry. You're buying." She said finally, walking ahead of him.
"Didn't we already establish this?" He called after her, his arms gesturing limply.
"Good Morning, welcome to Nougatine; do you have a reservation?" The immaculately dressed dark skinned woman asked as she waited by the small desk located in the entrance of the restaurant.
"Specter?" Harvey replied, straightening somewhat.
"Would you like to sit inside, or on the terrace?" The woman asked.
Donna straightened when his eyes darted to hers to make the decision. "Terrace please, on the side. Thank you." She said expertly. She could see him smirking next to her. He always appreciated her extreme decisiveness and the specifics of what she wanted.
"Right this way." The young woman said, leading them outside.
"It's going to be nice today," Donna said absent mindedly.
"Let's hope," Harvey concurred, sipping at his water as he examined the menu.
"You worried about the divorce?" She asked, picking up on his slight reservation.
"No." He sighed. "It'll be fine. We'll beat their asses." He said, assuredly.
He picked up on the fact that she was suddenly silent, her lips pursing together as the indent in her frown deepened in thought.
"You thinking about Stephen?" He asked. There was a tender approach in his voice.
"No?" Her reply was lightning quick. She watched as he noticed the discrepancy.
"Donna," He sighed, sitting back a touch.
"I'm just," She measured. "Wondering how the prosecution is going, that's all."
"He's going to pay for what he did," He said firmly.
"At the hands of a guilty man," Donna pointed out, her fingers fussing over her place setting.
"You know as well as I do, that Cameron is more than capable of doing his job as long as the accused is rightly accused." Harvey reminded her. He was right.
"Yeah." She said, feeling the weight of the situation. It still didn't feel right talking to Harvey about this. Too many memories and connections in the thick of it all.
"Do you know what you're going to have?" She asked, changing the subject.
He was momentarily taken aback by her quick change of the topic, but by the look on his face he understood. None of this was easy for either of them.
"I'm….probably going to have the Eggs Benedict. If it ain't broke," He said with a smirk.
"Yeah, I was thinking the same. But… maybe the French Toast?" She asked, her eyebrows knitting into a frown as she mused over her choices.
"Is this going to be like last time, where you order something and then eat mine?" He asked, the hint of humour in his voice palpable.
"I can't help it if yours tasted better than mine," She argued, immediately uppity.
"So then order what I order!" He said loudly, smiling still.
"NO…" She said stubbornly.
"Why not?"
"Because one day, what you have might not be good enough." She said, right off the bat.
A metaphorical thud hit the table between them.
It couldn't have been a better placed metaphor. She swallowed, her mouth becoming dry. It was the strangest of days. He looked at her, his eyes narrowing, the words almost too potent to form a reaction to.
It had been their problem all along, she'd realised.
She'd wanted more.
More than he could give.
Or wanted to give, or both.
So she'd looked elsewhere for a while.
And there had formed their problem...
"I didn't mean," She started, her words stumbled and her eyes looked out to the trees lining the terrace, the pearly blue sky above them.
"I know. I told you. We've all been through… a lot." He placated, in a very un-Harvey like manner.
"It's time to put it behind us, Harvey." She added, spying the waitress in a state of flux at their pensive conversation.
"Good morning, I'm Natalie. Can I get you any drinks to start with?" The young woman asked.
"Two Mimosas," Harvey suddenly said. It peaked her interest immediately.
"Two Lattes, one with an extra shot," Donna suddenly countered, frowning at him over the table under the flimsy cover of her menu.
"And are you ready to order? Can I suggest our French Toast, it's served with cinnamon caramelised apples and a caramel apple sauce."
"Yes you can. One of those, thanks and… Harvey?" Donna looked towards him, her expression readying.
"Eggs Royale, thank you." He said, looking back to Donna for a split second, his suppose upcoming victory waiting patiently in the lines of his face.
"Excellent choice; shall I bring both drinks over or the Mimosas first?" The waitress asked.
She butted in before Harvey even had a chance. "The Mimosas first, thanks."
She watched until the Waitress was out of earshot. "Are you getting me drunk before work?" She accused, the insinuation of her words palpable.
He rolled his eyes, adjusting his watch. "You can drink me under the table, Donna. One Mimosa isn't going to make a difference," He said, glaring at her. "And I thought we were celebrating?"
"We are… I just don't want to be drunk at work. I get flippant and churlish." She reasoned.
"I know. And handsy."
"Uh!" She refused, silencing him with a finger.
"And not with me, I might add." He said with a smirk, ignoring her protests.
"With who?"
"I remember….a copyboy? Christmas 09?"
"No…"
"Yes…"
"Oh…well," She struggled. "I was drunk. And who are you to talk? I'm pretty sure you went out afterwards and dragged whatever Miss America it was that year back to your bachelor-pad."
"Ohio; and I do not drag women back, they do come willingly." He said.
She watched as he smiled satisfactorily at his own spontaneous double entendre.
She was never sure how they end up on the topic of their love lives. Before she'd even noticed how they'd gotten there she realised that they shouldn't really have gone there in the first place.
Luckily their breakfast arrived on point with the Mimosas; two genuinely delectable dishes. The Eggs Royale was exquisitely piled like a pyramid, with the salmon rippling under a collective mountain of perfectly poached egg and vibrant hollandaise sauce with chives, accompanied with a beautiful side salad and a hash brown. Her dish took the cake, with buttermilk drenched fresh bread, caramelized and crisp under the weight of caramel apples that leaked the smell of cinnamon. The caramel sauce looked like decadence personified.
"Thank you," They both said in unison.
She looked up with glee to see Harvey unabashedly eyeing her dish.
"Oh how the tables have turned," She replied smugly.
"Oh no," He insisted. "That dish is too sweet for me and far too sweet for you. You're gonna take five bites of that, and then you're gonna want half of mine." He said, not a hint of arrogance in his tone - which niggled her slightly. "Shall I just order one of mine now and save all the trouble?" He asked.
And there it was.
The arrogance.
Right
On
Queue.
"No no, you keep your Eggs. I'm going to dig into this fantastic piece of artwork." She said, unfazed by the gauntlet ahead of her.
He smiled, shaking his head as he raised his glass. "To us," He said.
She raised her glass. "We never did celebrate you getting your name on the wall," She said, a hint of regret in her voice.
"Plenty of time for that." He told her.
There was that look again. She smiled something shy in the edges of her lips as they curled into it. "To...Us." She said finally, the chink of glasses reverberating as they both took a sip.
I think I might have inhaled you,
I can feel you behind my eyes,
You've gotten into my Bloodstream,
I can feel you flowing in me,
She couldn't help but look at him over the flute of her glass as he looked back at her. What would have been breakfast was somehow a quiet reaffirmation of their pact. A pact they'd never really spoken of but somehow had made ironclad so many years ago. The champagne and orange juice burnt with a sear, running down her throat with an insistence as she tried to clear it.
A natural silence settled between them, as she picked up her knife and fork, cutting into the soft bread as apple slices tumbled down and into the caramel. She gathered up a small pile on her fork, her mouth alight with the sensations of cream and caramel and cinnamon tinged apple sharpness.
"Good?" He asked, waiting for what he thought was the inevitable.
"Fabulous. How are the eggs?"
"Good, as always." He replied smugly, taking another sip of his Mimosa.
When her eyes flickered back to his, he was still looking at her like he was waiting for a 'but'..
"What?" She asked, eyes wide.
"Do you wanna try it?" He asked through a barely contained smirk, indicating to his own meal.
She frowned. She hated it when he knew her. It stopped her being able to pretend that he had no clue about her...
She put on her best poker face, trying to best him. "No, I'm good. I'll take your word for it." She said in measured words.
"Okay." He smirked. "Last chance,"
"Fine." She relinquished, leaning forward to cut a piece as he shook his head. She managed to grab a piece of everything on her fork, popping the whole thing into her mouth.
"Oh my god. That's…" She moaned.
"I told you," He said, his grin unbearably present as he watched her.
"And it goes with the Mimosa," She said,
"Now who would have thought."
"Oh please. You love being right; you looked at the menu beforehand didn't you?" She accused, pointing at him.
"I needed to make sure that it was on the menu." He shrugged.
She rolled her eyes. He was incorrigible, and frustrating and many other words that she was sure would pop into her head throughout the day…
She put down her knife and fork, taking the last sip of her drink as their coffees were brought over.
He watched her for a second, stirring some sugar into his own coffee. "Do you want mine? I'm finished." He asked.
"What do you think I am, a cow?" She replied.
He looked at her like she was an alien, shaking his head at the absurdity of her question. "No. I just know you, when it comes to us eating at a restaurant. You do it every time, Donna."
"Well, then. In celebration, no thank you. I am going to eat my own meal. The one I ordered." She said matter of factly, picking up her knife and fork. Every mouthful was like eating her words, the french toast so overly rich now that it had cooled slightly, the caramel sauce thickening against the slightly soggy toast. But she ate every bite full, just despite him, as he watched on with humour filled eyes.
She was getting that idea in the back of her head that he enjoyed her completely unreasonable moments more than she did herself. Just as she loved when he stuck it to people; that timely living, both vicariously through one another and for another. It was an old habit they'd never truly broken.
And every single time,
It unnerved her to the very core. But she wasn't about to let him know that.
She placed her fork and knife together, taking a sip of her coffee. "We should go. Otherwise, not even Jessica is gonna let us slip under the net if we don't make it in time for lunch." She said, her tone dry at the thought.
"Oh, ye of little faith." He chimed, placing his napkin on his plate.
"What?" She frowned, digging through her bag.
"I told Jessica that I'd be in a little later and that you had the morning off."
"So you didn't tell her that we were…" Together… She wasn't about to say the word...
"She doesn't need to know everything." He assured her, pushing his chair to stand.
"Well then, I'm going to go to the restroom," She said, stalking off into the restaurant.
She couldn't help but love to shop. She knew it was cliché of course: an assistant, whose Boss takes her out to lunch and buys her things. It was horribly cliché to the point of being slightly embarrassing. But as a unit they were not cliché, she reminded herself, and whilst they were who they were, there was never any reason for either of them to change. Especially when they'd just found an even keel again after so long.
It occurred to her that he'd been unnaturally patient with her as she browsed the store, leaning back in a seat in the middle of the room looking through his phone, or making eye contact when she commented about a bag. She didn't want to press it, to push him. And for the first time in a long time, she was unsure of what he was going to say, what he'd come out with even. It's not a position she had ever favoured with him. There was only ever one time she let her guard down in that respect and it ended in being the exact opposite of what she'd expected it to be, regardless of what she and they now had as a result.
Her hand lingered suddenly over a bag, simple, elegant, teal coloured…
"That one." He suddenly said behind her.
She turned to find him rocking on his heels, watching her with intent.
"You get bored?" She asked, her eyelashes fluttering slightly for effect.
"No. I just...like that one."
"Hmm…" She mused. "Me too. It's classic. I'm not sure which colour though…"
"The green," He said.
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"You don't think the blue…?"
"Hmm. No...Well," He frowned, looking at both.
"You're supposed to be my deciding vote, Harvey." She chided, looking over her shoulder at him.
"Oh, get both. You said more than one," He rolled his eyes, going to sit back down on a chair.
"Harvey! They're over two thousand dollars," She whispered loudly, showing him the tag.
"Really? What difference does that make?"
She eyed him for a second, to check if he was joking. He hardly ever joked.
"Hm. You're right. And if you're not going to spend your money…" She said deliberately.. It was moments like these, when she sounded completely spoilt and yet he knew she was joking and almost encouraged it. It was a strange part of them.
"Someone's got to. And I don't have the shoes to match. Or the dress." He quipped, straightening. "I like the Green. But get both. The Blue's nice, and you could wear that one today." He suggested.
She huffed, thoughts running all over the lines in her face, a tut forming. After a moment she smiled lopsidedly at him. "I'll just have the Green one, or what this tag says is… 'Malachite Green'" She noted.
When she turned her back, he'd already gestured for the young saleswoman to come over to them. She was beautiful, with swathes of brown curls and light blue eyes. Completely his type.
"Hi, we'd like one in both colours please." He said, before she could object. When he turned to her, she'd readied her best 'you shouldn't have' look. He was having none of it though...
"Of course. If you'd like to wait at the till, I'll be back in a second with both." The Saleswoman said, walking into the back.
"Harvey," Donna warned.
"Donna," He countered, his expression testing.
"She was hot." She suddenly said to him, changing the subject. Her face lit up.
"She was." He replied, a little too carefully for her liking.
"And… what? Aren't you going to ask her out?" She asked him. She wasn't really sure why she was asking but she was never one to back out of an impulse.
"Isn't it rude to buy one woman two handbags and then hit on the sales girl?" He asked, an interested frown lighting his face up.
"When has it stopped you before?" She fired, the words harsher than she'd meant them to be.
"I've never hit on anyone in front of you," He said.
"Gucci."
"That was,"
"Dolce and Gabbana,"
"I didn't,"
"And Prada. She was… not attractive."
"I remember Prada. You realise that I never really dated any of those women though, right?" He says, his look incredulous as he looks at her.
"Does it matter? Get in the game, Specter." She encouraged, ignoring that strange sensation in the pit of her stomach.
He retreated slightly, she noticed, instead giving his best poker face. "Not Today." He said, his voice solid and unyielding.
"Fine. But don't come crying to me when you want a fairy dating godmother."
"When have I ever-"
"Scotty?" She offered.
"Apart from Scotty?" He huffed.
"Zoe…"
"No, that was ALL you." He accused.
"I'm just saying." She said carefully as they settled at the till point. The air seemed off between them suddenly, both rigid and oddly static as they waited for the saleswoman to return. She found herself nudging him, in a typical school girl fashion. "Harvey," She said.
"Yes?" He offered, turning with a slightly reserved look that had softened.
She stared at him for a second, a little lost in how close they now were. She could count the stitches on his tie.
"Thank you." She said quietly.
"You're welcome." He said smiling at her as the saleswoman re-entered with her bags.
As she held both of the bags, looking them over, she realised,
He was right.
She should probably get both.
She did have the shoes and dress to match after all.
I wanted to explore more of the dialogue in the moment leading up to this, where we're seeing a new, slightly less confident side of Donna and Harvey. Xxx
Song Lyrics used were:
Worthy - Jacob Banks - Thanks to Anya for the Typo notice there LOL. No Twilight on this page :-)
Bloodstream - Stateless