Title: Doubtless
Pairing: D/H
Rating: K
Summary: One day, out of the blue, Harvey asks Donna to join him for dinner that night.
A/N: So… I'm writing a five things fic and a couple people requested their beginning. I wrote this, but thought to myself, "A beginning should not be buried in a five things fic." And thus it is it's own one-shot. Enjoy!
.::.::.::.
One day, out of the blue, Harvey asks Donna to join him for dinner that night.
Immediately suspicious, Donna's eyebrows arch and she scrutinizes everything. Everything. His tie is in place, not a hair askew, no bags under his eyes, and he's watching every move she makes.
"Okay…" She can't hide her wariness, but her curiosity is winning. "What time?"
"I get out of court around five thirty. I'll swing by the office at six to pick you up."
No time to go home and change. This is starting to sound like much more of a business dinner and less of a 'when's the last time I thanked you for being awesome?' dinner. The latter are infinitely more fun.
"Sounds good." She turns and exits his office, giving him one more look as she shuts the door. Fortunately for Harvey, she doesn't hear the loud exhale he releases once she's left.
The day goes from average to ridiculously busy. So much so that when Harvey calls to ask where she is, she realizes she forgot about dinner.
"Sorry, I was… never mind. I'll be down in five. Need me to grab anything?"
"Just yourself."
.::.
Harvey keeps his poker face in place most the evening, drinking only one glass of wine, enjoying the environment of one of their favorite restaurants. Their conversation flows easily and is peppered with laughter and stories of Donna's sisters. When their waiter gives him the 'we're closing' sign, Harvey wonders where the night went.
They don't go to another bar afterward; they both have work in the morning and neither of them wants to nurse a hangover or stupid mistakes. They continue a heated debate about Game of Thrones all the way to her apartment, even pulling Ray into the fray. Just as the car pulls up outside her place, Donna is crowing in victory at having momentarily won the battle. Harvey smiles back, her delight infectious.
Harvey taps Ray on the shoulder, indicating that he'll escort Donna to her door. Once there, she hesitates, giving Harvey a contemplative look. He knows she's been wondering all night what is going on. Instead of confusing things or opening up for any questions, he reaches out, runs his hand from her shoulder down to her wrist and squeezes her hand.
"I'll see you tomorrow at work. Sleep well."
"Night Harvey," she replies somewhat breathily, her arm tingling for some reason.
.::.
Over the next six weeks, he takes her out to a total of eight dinners. Each time it's easy. They have fun. They debate and they mock and they make up stories about fellow patrons. Her wit and charm and sheer intelligence combine to make him laugh and he asks her detailed, well thought-out questions that no one else could even assemble. When the night ends, he reaches out and squeezes her hand, but never anything more.
It's the warmth, the comforting sensation that settles in his stomach that makes him keep asking her to dinner. It's the sheer curiosity and overall enjoyment that make her keep saying yes. Both would be lying if they didn't wonder what would happen if they stepped it up a notch.
Still, Donna refuses to think anything of it. So she doesn't think at all. Not when he watches her drink her wine or when he guides her through a restaurant with his hand on the small of her back, not even when he lets her eat part of his dessert. She'll enjoy herself, enjoy the Harvey Specter treatment, but that's it.
She finds herself refusing perfectly good propositions to dinner from perfectly decent men, unsure why, except that she knows it wouldn't feel right. Harvey takes Jessica out to another victory dinner and not once does he flirt with a single woman. Jessica marks the change with a raised eyebrow; he downs his drink in one slow gulp.
Unfortunately, the next time he asks Donna to eat with him, she hesitates. She's not sure what's going on, but she knows that whatever it is, she's getting pulled in over her head. She's been here before, in that blissful state of being wooed by Harvey, and she knows what it feels like to be kindly escorted to the proverbial door the next morning. She refuses to let that happen.
"I'd love to, but I'm going to a play tonight."
"Really?" Harvey asks, watching the way her wariness pulls at her eyes. "Louis managed to get the tickets, didn't he?"
"How'd you —?"
"I'm the one who arranged it," Harvey, not spitefully, but a little irritated. Instantly, he is fine and moves to his office door. "Have a nice time."
For some odd reason, she's left feeling like she's wronged him somehow, even though there's nothing to feel bad about. Right?
She has a great time at the play, because Louis can be hilarious and self-effacing when he wants. Harvey spends the evening in his office, listening to Charles Mingus and staring at the skyline.
.::.
An entire week passes and she denies Harvey once more for dinner, but it doesn't even cause a hitch in his step. She hopes that perhaps, his desire to have her as a dinner companion has dwindled. Once again, she counts it as a blessing that she always stopped her mind before it could go off and get any romantic notions.
Later that week, she's in the senior partners lounge, looking for the good creamer when two tickets are waved in front of her face. Straightening immediately, she grasps at them, turning abruptly when they're pulled away. Finding herself incredibly close to Harvey instead of Louis, she shuffles backward. Unfortunately she's already against the counter.
"How'd you get those tickets?"
Harvey gives her an impish grin. "I have my ways."
"I'm pretty sure that was Bernadette Peters and Nathan Lane headlining," she swallows, desperately wanting space, but wanting to see those tickets even more. It's a well-known fact that she has a raging girl crush on Bernadette Peters.
"Good eye."
"Are those…" Donna leads, but is uncertain how to finish. "Why?"
"Tomorrow night," Harvey counters, ignoring her question. "Box seats. Eight o'clock. Ray will swing by around six. I know you like to eat before shows." He takes a step back, pocketing the tickets. There's no way she can say no. He knows this.
She frowns as he leans close and reaches around, taking an apple that is sitting in the basket behind her. He's not playing fair and they both know it. That's okay, she mentally promises; two can play this game.
When he arrives at her door right at six the following evening, she's dressed in a particularly calculating dress. It's sophisticated, cut in just a way that enhances, but doesn't reveal, and has a slit that keeps things exciting. It also matches her hair to the point where some might wonder if it was made for her. It was.
By the way he clenches his jaw, she can tell that he approves. He helps her into her coat and they head to the car. Ray gives her a double take and lets out a low whistle, not the least bit shy in showing his appreciation.
"Donna, give me a call if this guy gives you any trouble," Ray says as Harvey climbs in behind her. She laughs and Harvey just rolls his eyes.
Dinner isn't at a new restaurant, but at a quality place off Broadway without all the tourists and usual theatre patrons. They somehow get on the topic of his father, time passes quickly, and they nearly miss curtain call. Once settled in their box seats, Donna tunes out the world and Harvey spends the evening watching Donna enjoy the play. By the end, Donna has paid her respects at the altar of Bernadette and Harvey is simply left amused.
Neither of them is ready for the night to be over, so Ray takes them to get coffee and pie at a diner close to Donna's apartment.
"I swear this pie is full of sin," Donna says absently as she scrapes her fork across the ceramic, in no way ashamed to be licking it clean. At least not until she looks up at Harvey, sees the hooded look in his eyes and the way he follows the fork to her mouth. She thinks about making a quip, but seals her lips at the last possible moment, making a funny face. Harvey catches this and leans forward, amused once again by her behavior.
"Cat got your tongue?"
Shaking her head, she aims for nonchalant. "Nope." Cradling her coffee with her hands, she chooses to look outside and avoid his gaze.
His head falls to the side and she can almost feel that shit-eating grin. "You're nervous."
"You're staring at me."
"You look beautiful." His voice is warm and playful. This is a game.
Shaking her head, she looks at him, fed up. "Harvey, what are we doing?"
"We're enjoying pie and coffee and each other's company."
"Is that all?"
He pauses and swallows, the first sign of uncertainty that he's shown. "Do you want that to be all?"
She toes that invisible line and sizes it up. She knows what it's like, to be put in check by Harvey. Not this time. They aren't twenty something, and they've been through too much. She can't risk it, and neither can he. Taking a step away, she let's the line be.
"I think it would be for the best," her voice quiet, meeting his gaze as she lies through her teeth.
"Fair enough," he replies brusquely. Raising a finger, he signals for the check.
The car is silent this time as Ray drops her off. Harvey still gets out of the car and escorts her to her door, a perfect gentleman.
"Thank you, Harvey," she turns to him, a little buzzed from the two cups of coffee. "That was… that was perfect."
"I'm glad you had a good time." He smiles at her, sincere and warm. Once again he reaches out and runs his hand down her arm, almost lighting a trail of fire. "Sleep well." He squeezes her hand and returns to his car.
She wants to call out to him. Wants to ask him inside. Wants him to peel off her dress and make her toes curl.
But she doesn't. Instead, she goes inside and misses the way Harvey's shoulders slump and the dejected sigh that escapes his lips.
.::.
Everything is business as usual the following week. Harvey wins, Mike works hard, and Donna is awesome. So awesome in fact, that she decides to reward herself with a victory cupcake from the bakery down the street. She gets several, knowing that Harvey loves the Devil's Food Cake, Jessica the German chocolate, Funfetti for Mike, and Rachel the chocolate truffle.
It's as Donna is bequeathing these treasures of deliciousness that Jessica knocks some sense into her.
"Thank you, Donna," Jessica smiles as Donna places the box on her desk. "Any particular reason?"
"For cupcakes?" Donna shrugs. "Does there need to be?"
"No." Jessica smiles demurely. "Of course not."
Donna turns to go, but is halted mid-stride by one very pointed question. "Are you dating Harvey?"
Turning, Donna shakes her head before responding. "No. Why —" she clears her throat. "Why would you think that?"
"Because you've had dinner with him several times in the last two months."
"It's just dinner. Nothing special."
"No," Jessica replies as she stands. "The first dinner was nothing special. I made a careless remark to Harvey that he takes you for granted. He took you out to dinner that first night to prove me wrong."
Donna's stomach twists. She was right. She's been right all along. The blood is rushing to her ears and it's a lot harder to focus on Jessica's words.
"… but every dinner after? That was very much Harvey."
Knowing she's supposed to reply, Donna nods. "I see."
Watching her closely, Jessica seems to realize that she's said too much. "Thank you, Donna… for the cupcake."
Aware that she's being dismissed, Donna smiles and escapes Jessica's knowing gaze. The rest of the afternoon, Donna's cupcake sits uneaten on her desk even though the boys are in Harvey's office, high off a sugar rush. She festers for another day or two, contemplating and running possibilities in her mind. Finally coming to a decision, she makes a move. That night she spends a sizable chunk of her bonus getting two tickets to the jazz festival coming up the following weekend.
When she sets them on Harvey's desk two nights later, he glaces up at her with a questioning look.
"Early birthday present. I already cleared your schedule for next Friday. It's a three-day event."
His finger glides over the tickets then picks them up, taping the edges on his desk. Harvey flashes a smile. "I look forward to it."
Oddly shy, a small quirk of the lip in reply, "Me too."
The next week is remarkably busy, so that when Thursday evening rolls around and Harvey appears in front of her at the close of business, she's bleary-eyed and very worn down. Desperately in need of a reprieve.
Harvey seems to pick up on her train of thought. "Ray should be by around eleven. I figured we could get lunch before we head over. None of the good acts start until the evening anyway."
That means he's giving her the morning to sleep in. The thought of several uninterrupted hours in bed make her eyes glaze over in anticipation. "Wonderful," she replies as she logs off her computer. "Call when you're on your way."
The first day the sky is overcast and threatens rain, but the crowds come anyway and they manage to fjord the stream of fanatics. Harvey seems wound tight, but she knows it's because he's in his element, every part of him taking in all the sights and sounds. She can't help but smile at the near childish look that crosses his face when a drummer hits an infectious beat or a trumpeter hits a note that takes their breath away.
He drops her off that night, same as usual, squeezing her hand and whispering good night. Her arm tingles and he hums all the way home.
They get a late start the next day, Harvey has to meet up with a client and she needs to mail off some packages for her family. They come together at the venue, and continue much the same as the previous day. She only hesitates once when his hand brushes hers. The next time, he does it on purpose and maybe she lets him. By the end of the night they're tired and sweaty from spending all day out in the sun. Regardless, they get ice cream and walk quite a ways before summoning Ray.
When he walks her to her door, she gives him a smile and this time she reaches out to squeeze his hand. Ray is smirking at Harvey when he hops inside the car.
The last day holds the very best acts. Harvey is at her door by nine, holding a cup of coffee and a scone, brimming with excitement. Well, as close to excitement as he can convey. She opens her door slowly, only having just climbed inside her sundress and sandals.
"Bless you, good Sir."
"I know it's early considering how late we got back."
"You're seriously putting a dent in my beauty sleep," she replies as she downs half the coffee in one go, walking to the car. Eyeing the scone, she looks over at him before taking the pastry. "I hope you got the right kind."
"Orange cranberry?"
"Mmmm you know me too well," she says as Ray gives her a wink in the rearview mirror. Harvey nods to himself in agreement.
They practically close the festival that night, remaining behind as many of the musicians have a jam session before parting ways. It's a rare moment that cements itself in their minds and Harvey slings his arm over her shoulder, pushing his face close to her ear.
"This has been the best non-birthday ever."
She looks up at him and smiles, ruffling his festival-weary hair. "You're welcome."
He keeps her close, and she doesn't pull away. When Ray picks them up, he thinks they look half asleep, but makes no comment when they demand sustenance. Smartly, he avoids the diner with the pie and takes them instead to a place with crepes. Donna's is decadent while Harvey has the basics. They end up trading half way through and find themselves sufficiently fed, both liking what the other had more.
Harvey walks Donna to her door in the wee hours of the morning, pressing his finger on her sunburnt arm .
"Thanks a lot. That feels amazing," Donna scowls, fearing all the freckles that will magically appear by morning despite the SPF 80 she applied throughout.
"Hey, I offered you my jacket."
"Please, like you'd actually let me wear it," she retorts, glancing at him doubtfully.
He gives her a steady look, voice rich as he murmurs, "I would."
Finding his gaze too overpowering, she breaks first and gives him a smile. "Night Harvey."
He reaches out like always, but this time he pulls her close and pauses, just long enough for her to push him away. When she doesn't, he kisses her softly, then presses harder when she pulls him closer. Her hands wrap around his neck and she makes him forget which hand goes where. Their breath mingles, their lips press firmly as their tongues run against each other in a fluid motion. Finally, he steps away, leaving them both breathless and slightly dazed. Planting one more kiss on her lips, Harvey leans forward and whispers in her ear: "Next time, you won't be saying good night."
As he walks away, hands in his pockets and pep in his step, he turns when she calls out to him. "Is that a promise Mister Specter?"
He opens the door and braces his arm on the roof. "It's a guarantee."
When she shuts her door, she thinks that maybe they can do this. Maybe they can be good for each other. She thinks that maybe, just maybe, they can make it work.
Harvey never has a doubt.
fin
.::.::.
A/N: This is a one-shot only. I was aiming for ideal and less for fluff, but occasionally the two coincide. I'd like for them to get together without alcohol and bad decisions involved. Sex? Most certainly. But I digress. Hope you enjoyed.