Don didn't know why he was unhappy Sloan went out for drinks with another guy, but he was sure he didn't like it. He especially didn't enjoy her dating a fucking football player, but what was he to do?

"Hey, Sloan!" Don shouted in her direction, rushing down the hall. She grabbed the elevator door and held it for him. "Thanks. You know, you were great out there." His sly smile shows his approval as his eyes gleam. Sloan melts a little and pretends her stomach didn't just do cartwheels. His eyes find hers and linger. Sloan has this adorable little smile glued on her face. The tension between them in the dim light of the elevator is palpable.

"Everyone's headed to Hang Chew's."

"Yeah, I'm going there." Pause. Their words come out in rapid succession. It's a tango they've perfected over time, the call and response of one another, feelings dipped in the end of their sentences. It is well-practiced like sheet music of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. "Can I buy you a drink?"

She releases a small laugh, quickly brushing him off, "Oh, you can buy me anything you'd like."

"No, I'm serious." The doors open but neither move. Don breathes before continuing, "Drinks are on me." A high-pitched chorus of strings can be heard in the background.

"Let's go."

They stay in bed together, staring at the ceiling, content with life. Don has his arm wrapped around Sloan's shoulders, creating the perfect pocket for her to comfortably lay next to him. Classical music flows in from the window. The park sits a block over from Don's apartment.

"I think we pulled it off today. You really hit it with the Disney stock," Don chides. Sloan quietly hums along to the light, airy melody. "You like classical music?"

She stops and lifts her head to look at him, "You don't?"

"Well," he thinks about it, "Not really. I never quite..."

Sloan cuts him off with a slender finger to his lips. "Shhh. Here it is. Listen."

The chorus of strings joins in to match the heavy, rhythmic timpani. Sloan holds her breath, closes her eyes, and lets the music fill her soul. It enters her ears and travels to her heart, hitting deep notes of empathy and strain. It reminds her of the elevator, the music filling the empty space. Don watches her eyebrows twitch and her face contort to match the beats of the music. It amuses him, how cute she is when she's vulnerable. She doesn't hold her stony facade around him. The cellos hit and hold a low C while the violins fly into the rafters. Sloan relaxes and smiles, finally breathing again. She is able to let down her guard because she trusts him completely. He's a good guy.

"It's so beautiful," she murmurs, laying her head on his chest.

"So are you," he whispers in response to her soft breathing. "So are you."

A/N: It started off as a drabble but decided it wanted to be more. My first time writing Don/Sloan, be gentle with me.