Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Mostly Scottie/Third person POV, italics are thoughts
He was in the shower, "unwinding from the day," when it first hit her that she didn't know him at all. Not really, anyway. It was in the teakettle on the stove that she saw the truth. How she had missed it before this was really beyond her.
And you call yourself an attorney.
There was a crinkle at his eyes that morning that she couldn't recall ever seeing. It was the only hint that there was anything different about him. It was what set apart his usual smirks and boyish grins apart that he showed the world from the quiet smiles of contentedness and satisfaction. Those small lines that told of hours of laughter and heartfelt smiles. She'd never experienced them herself, had never seen them, let alone caused them. She swept her observations away with a brisk flip of her thick hair over her shoulder before returning her eyes to the file in front of her on the island. Three seconds later, the pristine exterior of the kettle had her attention again.
There had always been more to their relationship, a dynamic that she never quite grasped. It was always just beyond her reach. Standing there at the island, her gaze firm on the kettle, it was all clear. The eye crinkle this morning and the kettle went hand in hand.
His inability to commit always stung, but she was always placated by the thought that it wasn't personal; he didn't commit to anyone. Or so she thought.
That damn kettle is mocking me.
She had long since accepted that Donna was always going to be a part of his life. She often questioned whether there were underlying feelings there; the quick barbs shared between the two had always spoken of more than employer-employee relations. Both had assured her on multiple occasions they were merely colleagues, friends even, but nothing more. She never completely believed it, but with the truth staring her down, she had no choice.
She had briefly wondered if the boy wonder-Mike , she reminded herself, would be the one to break him, would break the barriers that Harvey had created. He had mentioned briefly experimenting with men in college, would it really be such a stretch that it was the pup he always bragged about that would be the one to make him commit? She snorted at her own mistake.
As if. The pup is good but he's not that good.
Staring down the teakettle, she can't believe she's never noticed it before. She'd seen the push and pull in conversations between the two, seen the mutual respect that shone bright in their eyes when speaking to one another. She had even seen the flicker of affection each head when speaking of one another.
Jessica. It's always been there.
She realized with a deep and shaky breath. She didn't understand why he continued with his other…proclivities, but she now knew it had always been there and it seemed always would be. His one night stands and his dates were his conquests-that's really all they ever had the potential to be. She saw that now. She knew what they had would never grow beyond its current state, but she never knew that someone else had.
How many women, and probably men if we're being honest, thought they had the attention of the great Harvey Specter? Thought they had wrangled the untamable? Did they see that they would never compare in his eyes?
She perched herself on the stool and allowed herself to think about her discovery logically. And once she started, it all made sense.
How had I missed this?
Harvey Specter demanded the best in everything. His secretary, his associate, his condo. Everything had to be the best. Even his stupid hot dogs were from the cart that he deemed 'the best in the city.'
His coffee
His coffee was also the best, but staring at the teakettle she realized she had only ever seen him drink tea once—
As you were walking past her office.
It made sense, it really did. She drank tea, so he drank tea. Or looking at the kettle, she drank tea, so he made tea. He was the best; she was the best. Each had a matching unquenchable fire in their eyes that only exists in those too big for this world. Where she pulled, he pushed. Where he stumbled, she smoothed the way.
Black eyelashes touched her cheeks as she closed her eyes, picturing them working together, a luxury she had rarely gotten to see. They instinctually moved, spoke, breathed in tandem. They were one, and she couldn't believe she had missed the wonder that they were before now.
They were each a force of nature individually, he an unstoppable force, she an immovable object. Together they were an unbeatable pair, legal artwork that was almost overwhelming to watch now that she thought about it. But now that she knew, she would never, could never unsee it.
Chess. They're playing chess while the rest of us are playing checkers and it was staggering. Beauty really is in the eye of the beholder.