I've never actually done one of these so I hope I'm doing it right. Written for the Darvey Virus Prompts thingie, where Darveylane prompted "based around 7.12 - donna and harvey have drinks and listen to gordon's music ~ donna brings up that paula will call back, he says maybe he doesn't want her to, emotional talks and maybe another k*ss?"
Many thanks to Victoria, who told me I could do this, and Anna, who held my hand while I did.
. . .
It almost makes her cringe when the topic turns to his relationship with Paula. She's ashamed and trying not to be. Ashamed of herself for kissing him, ashamed of the fact that after all these years he just doesn't want her. Ashamed of how she can't seem to get him out of her system, her brain, her life. Ashamed of how she doesn't want to.
She's not ashamed of how she lied to him. And she's not ashamed for taking the chance when she had it. The answer wasn't what she was hoping for but at least now she knows the score and can try to move on. Or at least try to live in a world where she finally knows where she stands.
But she's still Donna, and he's still Harvey, and she never was able to turn away from him when he was hurting. So she turns towards him instead.
"I told her about us," he said, looking at her from the corner of his eye.
"Twelve years ago?"
"Yeah."
"Let me guess, she was pissed that it took you two days to tell her the whole story."
"Something like that." She can tell by the tone of his voice and the set of his jaw and the way he doesn't look at her how it must have gone down.
"Harvey, I know it's not my place to say but I'm pretty sure if you let her in on what you're going through she'd want to hear about it."
He finally looks at her. "I left her two messages, she hasn't called back." A rock on his heels, the pinch of his mouth lets her know he thinks this is the end of yet another relationship, and her heart aches for him even as it tries to stitch itself back together.
"She will," she says, and with a smile that she hopes doesn't look too pained turns to leave. She makes it almost to the door before he speaks.
"Hey, still want that drink?"
She turns to find him picking up the sleeve to his dad's album, fiddling with it almost nervously and not looking at her. "Maybe we can listen to the rest of this album."
"That'd be nice, Harvey. That'd be nice," and this time her smile is small but sincere. Maybe friends is something they can still do. He pours her a drink (they drink from separate glasses now, it used to be one passed back and forth like a cigarette) and she moves to the couch, surprised when he follows and sits on the other end. Keeping his distance, but not choosing the other chair and she hates herself for thinking this might mean something.
She can feel the tenseness in his whole body and it doesn't relax the way it usually does when he listens to his father play. She waits a whole song before saying anything.
"Are you okay?"
He sits forward and hangs his hands between his knees, spinning the glass. "I don't know."
"Paula?" And she can't believe she's going to try and give him relationship advice again, but she's never been able to stop before.
"I'm just not sure where this is going. If it's worth fighting for."
"Harvey-"
"I know. I know I've never fought for anyone." He spares her a glance. Knows he's never fought for her, either. "I just don't know if I'm hoping she'll call back, or hoping she won't."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I've been busting my ass trying to make this relationship work, and all I seem to do is get further behind. I'm trying this time, Donna. I really am." He runs a hand through his hair and she can see the frustration building. "She wants me to be open with her but every time I say something she gets upset."
She swirls the liquid in her glass. "I'm pretty sure that's because of what you have to share, and how long it took you to do it."
"I just don't get why it's that big a deal. It was twelve years ago!"
"Put yourself in her shoes, Harvey. What if she was the one who worked with someone and had the kind of relationship that we have? What if they had the kind of history we do? Would you really be okay with it?"
He stares at her for a moment and she thinks maybe she might have gotten through to him.
"Yes!"
She sighs. Or not.
"God, you're such a man," she says, taking a drink and enjoying the burn down her throat. "I wouldn't be okay with it," and that seems to give him a momentary jolt.
"You wouldn't? Why not?"
"Let me ask you this: what if it was me?"
He ran a hand over his face. "Donna, I really-"
"No, just listen. What if I was the one who slept with someone twelve years ago and then stood by them every day since, if I was the one who was the only constant in their life, their cheerleader, their counselor, for over a decade? You really wouldn't be threatened by that?"
He pauses then, with his glass to his lips and she sees the realization in his eyes because she knows he feels possessive toward her regardless of whether he wants more or not. He's never liked sharing what he considers his, and whether she likes it or not that means her. In whatever capacity he can manage to keep her around. She's angry and she's heartbroken and she wants to tell him to just give up on Paula and this whole relationship but the truth is not being with Paula won't make him want her.
"Oh," is what he says, and she relaxes against the back of the couch. Mission accomplished. She's only a little bit bitter that it once again takes putting their relationship in the perspective of a capital-R Relationship that makes him understand- but not understand at all. She doesn't understand how he can feel the way she knows he feels about her, and yet refuses to believe it.
"Why isn't it this easy with her?" he asks his glass, and she can't believe she's in love with someone so utterly blind. Because I'm the one, she wants to scream.
What she actually says is, "We have history, Harvey. A lot of it. You'll build that with her, too. You just have to be open and let her in on your thought process. She's not me, you know." She smiles then, and his eyes widen.
"No," he says, leaning towards her, "she's not."
She thinks he's going to kiss her then, and he does- a peck on the cheek. "Thanks, Donna. You're a lifesaver."
She blinks away the moisture in her eyes as they listen to the last two songs. She knew it wasn't going to change anything, but somehow the thought that this is her life now is devastating. Watching him leave her behind after she spent the better part of the last 12 years being his for the taking, if only he'd take…
He excuses himself eventually, saying he's going to call it a night and Donna knows where he's going, offers to clean up the glasses because he's had a long day. He flashes her a smile and a quick thanks before disappearing around the corner. She always said to herself that she wanted him to be happy. She just never thought it would mean letting go.