to build a home ; r ; 2,160 words ;
chapter 1
if there's anything that makes sense, it's this right here, the way they're living, but it doesn't mean it won't fall apart
a/n: this is a follow up to silent night will shatter and the times they are a changin'
Harvey wakes up Monday morning feeling like a different man. His life is different, not entirely, but he feels like he's different. It doesn't make as much sense in words as it does in feelings. He has the same job and the same woman in his life as he's had for almost his entire adult life, but everything else has so much more clarity than it used to.
He doesn't think he can explain the feeling in anything but words and he would do so with simplicity and rather dismissively. He's always heard the question do you feel different? like one moment can really change anything but now that it's one that he's experienced, he can say that he was wrong. Although he wouldn't admit it out loud, it is something that he would admit to her.
He hasn't said so yet - hasn't said that he feels different being married to her after they did it, that there was a sense of security that allowed him to feel a bit more okay returning to work than before she said she would. He knows that there are still some winkles to iron out, that a sensible plan still needs to be put into place. This is literally the one thing in his life he's done without entirely thinking it through and every moment he starts to think that maybe it was stupid, he just looks at her and it's all it takes.
But, when he wakes up Monday morning to a cup of coffee from down the street on his nightstand and the realization that he slept through the entire night, he thinks that things might be looking up. He knows everything that has been standing in his way has been him, has been the things in his head. He can't figure out for sure what makes it so different now that he feels different as well.
As last week rolled into this one, many things changed. Thursday they got married and even though he knows it was a little fast, he felt like it was something he needed. Many people might point out that it was a little soon, but he'd argue that no one knows him better and that they've known each other for more years than either of them would admit in certain terms. He thinks that this isn't something that he should have to explain either way.
But when he peels his eyes open at the smell of coffee and the slightest hints of sunshine, he feels panicked when she's nowhere to be seen. The truth of the matter is that he's dealing with a lot and having to retrain himself to just say things to her rather than treating her as though she is a package of fragility. It used to be so natural to him, to just tell her what was on his mind, and it used to be something that he didn't hesitate to do.
He thinks that it's partially because it was never about her (not that he didn't think about her, because he did, it just wasn't in this all consuming manner which it is now) and the other part of him thinks that it's because he doesn't want to take whatever progress has been made and lose it. He doesn't have any reason to fear that he may lose her or lose what they've become other than the fact that she literally woke up to a whole new world laced with a whole new set of feelings. He doesn't feel like the old Harvey. He feels desperate and faced with a need for her unlike one that he could previously admit to.
Recently, the good things have begun to outweigh the bad on the larger scale of things and he knows that if he were to admit to being so cynical that Donna would laugh. It's difficult to spontaneously marry someone who knows him so well but there's part of him that he's struggling with grasping onto after almost losing her. She is the other part of him, his reflection and his consciousness at the same time.
They are developing a rather comforting routine that he only wishes he could have some power over on a rare occasion. That occasion being that when he wakes up not finding himself to be alone in the bed and the sheets relatively cold, but he knows that she would reason that at least he's beginning to sleep throughout the night. (She does have a point - now he's even speaking on her behalf in his head.) He's spent so many years with her and the idea of not having her is absurd, unfathomable, heart-wrenching. Trying to forget that he ever experienced that is the hardest thing that he's ever done.
Donna's doctor appointment on Friday had revealed that she was recovering nicely and should be able to return to work in a month at the soonest. He thinks it will be the month from hell, having to look at her desk and her not be there - having a temp assistant will be difficult, much like the last time when she was fired. Cameron touched too many things and fucked up too much of his and Donna's system. He needs her to micromanage him, needs her to function wholly.
His routine is much like it was before Donna's accident, at least the routine that she's forcing him to recreate. He woke up to a still and quiet condo, a fresh from the dry cleaners suit hanging from a hook over the closet door. It makes sense where the coffee came from because that suit was certainly nowhere to be seen when he went to sleep. His body is exhausted but he's also well rested and the contradictory feeling seems like a mockery, but he takes a shower and gets dressed like is expected of him.
Fully dressed, he goes into the kitchen, draping his coat over the back of the chair, to see her with quite a mess and a little nerve racked at the idea of her cooking. She hasn't cooked much, but the few times she has it's left him reeling in not the best ways. It always floors him at the idea, especially after a week spent with her mother who is phenomenal in the kitchen.
"Hey," he says, eyes taking in her tight jeans and warm looking sweater, "you're cooking?"
She turns at the waist, glancing at him over her shoulder, "good morning to you, too."
"How long have you been up?"
Her fingers tap against a button on the microwave to bring the time foreward, "couple hours."
"You could have stayed in bed with your husband," he points out.
She drops some food on a plate, sprinkling powdered sugar on a piece of toast to make a very appetizing appearance of french toast. She's made a full meal and she slides a plate across the island in front of him with a wink. He grabs the fork off of the counter like she's been waiting for this for the hours she's been awake. He can only imagine what all she's been up to.
"As my husband," she starts and her smile is not lost on him, "you have to go to work so you can take care of me."
"As your boss, you need to get cleared for work," he counters.
"You're so clever," she mutters, "eat your breakfast before you're late for work."
He takes a bite, pleasantly surprised that she seems to have acquired a bit of skill since the last time she cooked, "is this something I should get used to?"
"Doubt it," she replies, "I just wanted everything to be perfect for your first day back."
"You know, going on a vacation would have made today perfect. What do you say? It isn't too late to back out," he suggests.
She laughs, "honey, I commend you for your efforts but if your phone rings one more time I'm going to strangle you and then we'll be on the list of one hundred shortest marriages."
"You're very funny," he deadpans.
She smirks, "I know. Now eat your bacon."
"The whole vows thing made you bossy," he mutters as he lifts a strip of bacon to his mouth.
She leans her elbows against the counter and reaches across to his plate to take some bacon. He narrows his gaze in her direction but doesn't bother saying anything because he knows it'll be a lost cause. Might as well save his breath. He lightly shakes his head as she takes a bite, nothing the way that her lips don't touch the food even in the slightest.
"I was always bossy, babe," she says with a wink, "you just weren't always so compliant."
"The moment you're back to work I'm going to make your life hell," he teases.
She laughs a little, "is that why you want me to return to work so badly?"
'We'll miss having you," he replies, "you're loved and you're feared - you're very important."
"Are you talking about you?"
"No," he replies with a smirk. He pushes the side of his fork into the french toast to cut it, powdered sugar falling onto the plate with a quiet thud. He hears her heel click against the floor and it suddenly dawns on him how tall her boots are. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Have you ever needed permission?"
"Ha ha," he mocks laughs. He swallows his bite and takes a quck drink from the lukewarm coffee, the bite still strong as he glances at the cup to get the name of the place where she got it. He notices it's a place he's never even noticed but it sure does the trick. "This is horrible coffee. Who let you make decisions?"
She rolls her eyes and lightly shakes her head, "nothing would ever get done if you didn't have me around."
"Hey, I do plenty for myself," he insists, "I tied my own knot."
"Yeah, it looks a little," she tucks her bottom lip between her teeth to keep herself from finishing the sentence. She lightly shakes her head to brush off that she'd ever started to say anything and Harvey can't help but be reminded of everything they've been through over the years. There isn't much that she hasn't seen, the sides of him that he's tried to keep from everyone, but she's still here. "It looks fine, babe. No one will notice."
"You noticed."
"What do I not notice?" She counters.
He smirks, "you have a point. I can't do anything to surprise you."
"Oh, you can surprise me," she replies.
He grows really serious, eyebrows furrowing in question, "since when?"
"You have your moments," she admits. They sit in silence for a few moments as he chews his food, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. She looks at him and she feels at home, the slow realization that he's probably always felt at home coming over her. "You better go before you're late."
"I'll only be a few minutes late," he says with a shrug.
"Nonsense, get going," she replies with a thumb motion towards the door.
With a sigh, he pushes himself to his feet in total resignation. He knows that if they're going to work, he needs to listen to her because she's right. She's been right more times than he's been willing to admit over the years and he's learned that to save his energy then he needs to not fight with her. Besides, if he really loves her and wants to be with her then he'll concede a little bit more noticeably; however, he does appreciate that she doesn't rub it in his face when she's right.
"Fine," he grumbles, although his smile betrays him.
"You go into work smiling like that, Mister Specter, they're going to think you're a push over."
"They'll have another thing comin'," he counters. He tugs his jacket on and offers her a wink. She laughs gently and shakes her head at him. "You gonna be okay without me?"
"I'm going to miss you a great deal, but you have to go away first," she says.
He laughs, "now you're just lying to me."
"I would never," she teases.
"Yeah yeah," he mutters as he disappears down the hall way.
"Hold on," she calls from the kitchen.
She's at his side by the time her voice touches his ears and he's caught in her elegance, her grace just as overwhelming as always. Her fingers slide down the lapels of his jacket like they have many times before, but it feels different. He just lets her, lets her fingers flatten his hair before returning to the lapels of his jacket. Her mouth presses into the corner of his as she pushes herself up on her toes.
Her voice is soft when she says, "knock 'em dead, slugger."