Hello everyone, it's just turned November here. However, it's still Halloween somewhere and while this isn't a Halloween story I did really want to post something for #darveyhalloween.. and forced myself to sit down and type this up today, so I haven't had the time to check it completely.. I'll come back to do so tomorrow and read all the Halloween fics. For now, thanks for all the reviews on the last chapter, here's the next part. I hope you'll like it. Let me know. Also, I've been listening to Miss Swift way too much so yeah there might be some hidden references.
Enjoy - x M
MISTLETOE MYSTERY
CHAPTER X
SATURDAY, DECEMBER 15
He looks inside the paper bag one more time. Nodding in appreciation as he takes in the content; it's even better than he imagined it would turn out. "Thanks, man," he says with a nod, extending his other hand to Benjamin.
Benjamin switches the egg McMuffin Harvey brought him to his other hand, now shaking Harvey's to round up their deal. "I hope she likes it."
"I hope so too," Harvey answers with a grin, but he's pretty sure she will. Meaning she will have to acknowledge him as a great gift giver and his smile broadens at the thought alone. He nods once more, bidding a silent goodbye to the redhead's friend before he continues his way back home.
"Mr Specter."
Harvey freezes in the middle of his walk back over campus. Clutching onto the bag, he pushes his scarf up to his chin and slowly turns around, hoping he was wrong about the face that belongs with the voice, but he isn't. "Professor Gerard, good afternoon."
"I see you're feeling better today."
Fuck.
"Yeah, I uhm.. I," Harvey pauses, taking a moment to consider his options but he already knows Gerard knows it was a lie so he might as well confess now. "My girlfriend performed in the Christmas play last night and I chose to attend that instead of the rescheduled lecture."
Henry Gerard stares at his student for a moment, an amused smile gracing his face at last. "Good."
Harvey frowns at the last word he'd ever expected to come out of the professor's mouth.
The professor grins then, it's not uncommon for students to be dumbfounded by his responses now and then, but it does give him pleasure every time it happens. "Ethics is not about never doing anything wrong, it's about making choices, and while I don't necessarily agree with your choice, it's not a wrong one either."
"Oh … kay," Harvey's answer comes before he even gets the chance to think, and he scolds himself for speaking up yet again.
"I do expect a three-page essay first thing Monday morning. Good afternoon, mister Specter."
Fuck.
Harvey groans inwardly, standing still in place as he watches his ethics professor walk off. Instead of going ahead, he turns to the left now - making his way over to the library. He figures that's the best way to get a head start on his task but a little after three in the afternoon he decides to call it quits.
"Harvey."
Harvey flinches for the second time that day at the mere sound of his name, and just like before he knows exactly whose voice it is that calls for his attention. Holding back a sigh, he straightens his shoulders and stands a little taller, turning around at last.
"Harold."
A flicker of surprise flashes over the law student's face. "Hi… uhm," he pauses, running a hand through his hair. "Do you need help?" He asks then, signalling the book Harvey had just returned.
"No, I'm fine. Thanks."
"Okay," Harold says, thinking over his words, but he blurts them out at last. "So uhm, Louis, Katrina and I are planning on going to the pub quiz tonight, do you want to join our team?"
Ooh god, no.
Harvey swallows, thickly, taking a moment to think over how to answer this. There's no way he'd willingly hang out with Harold alone and not minding his presence is a stretch, even with the rest of his friends there. Then again, he doesn't really feel like hanging out with them either tonight. Donna's birthday party tomorrow is already a guaranteed meetup.
"I uhm.. I can't," Harvey mumbles, looking down as he lies until an excuse comes to mind. "I'm uhm.. taking Donna out tonight to celebrate our anniversary, so some other time man." He watches the blondes face fall a little, and he instantly feels a tad of guilt, something he writes down to the redhead's influence. "But you'll be there tomorrow, right?"
Harold's eyes light up at that and a smile so bright breaks out over his face Harvey already knows there's no way back now. "For Donna's birthday?"
"Yeah," he answers. "She'd love for you to be there."
.
Disposing of the bag with Donna's gift in his room, he calls out for his roommates, but there's no reply. With both men out he knows it's best if he just sat down again and worked on his paper, but he also remembers the lie he told earlier today and the excuse he offered to cover that and if either come back to the redhead before he has a chance to tell her himself he's in trouble. And one does not want to be in trouble when it comes to Donna Paulsen. Coat still on he decides it's best to rush downstairs and tell her himself, so he does exactly that. He is knocking on the wooden door with the brass numbers just a couple of minutes later.
"Harvey," she greets him, clinging onto the door as he stalls on the landing. She bobs her head to the side, quietly taking in his posture and asking why he isn't coming inside.
"Hey."
She watches him rocking back and forth on his feet, and sees him bring his hand to his hair. No doubt trying to wrap his head around a way to say whatever it is, he came to tell her. "Are you nervous?" she teases then, knowing that deep down there might be truth to her words, but she also knows her best friend will never admit that and it is the absolute best way to get him to talk. Usually in a more defensive manner than needed, but it's better than silence.
"No," he counters in a beat, taking a deep breath.
"Ooh god, what did you do?"
"I uhm.." He bites down on his lip. "I may have invited Harold to your birthday party tomorrow."
"You did what?"
He tilts his head but doesn't repeat his words.
"Why would you do that?"
"He invited me to this stupid pub quiz tonight."
"Ooh Samantha told me about that," she answers, "everyone seems to be going."
"Well you aren't," he counters, flashing her a smile in hopes it will hold back her instant rebuttal. It does, and he figures now is as good a time as ever to inform her of the other thing he had said. "I uhm… I told Harold I couldn't join because I uhm… we have a date night."
Donna's eyes widen a bit, and she stares at him for a moment, just taking in his words. Date night. That's not something she ever imagined him saying; she does, however, remember using the excuse once herself. Or more so, the excuse got thrown upon her by Rachel once before, but he had been a great sport about it, and they had a great time, like always.
"Well," she breathes then, letting her hand drop from its position on the handle. "What if I wanted to go out tonight."
He swallows, hadn't even thought about that yet. He eyes her then, fully taking her in for the first time after she had answered the door. She's dressed from head to toe in loungewear; yoga pants clinging to her curves, an oversized sweater exposing one bare shoulder. Her dress code not uncommon but it did usually mean she had no plans on leaving the house. He signals her clothes with a flick of his wrist, the gesture enough to question her statement.
She glances down and sighs, sometimes she forgets how well he knows her too, but she doesn't let him win easily. "I could have," she counters at last with a shrug.
"Okay, fine," he says, pressing his lips together as a barely formed idea crosses his mind. "Get dressed. We're going out."
"What?"
He pushes forward, taking a step in her direction and motions for her to turn inside. "You heard me," he says, giving the door a swing as he traces her steps through the hallway. "We're going out."
She chuckles, snorts almost at the absurd spontaneity of his suggestion because they both know he had no plans of going out either. "Where?" she asks, and she has to bite down on her tongue to stop herself from smiling, she knows she's got him.
Shit. He swallows, eyes the floor and is this close to just giving up but he doesn't give up so easily. "It's a surprise," he bluffs.
She hums, eyes him quizzically, and even though she hates surprises, she has to hand it to him and his quick thinking. A way to buy himself some time to figure out what they're going to do, last-minute on a Saturday during the busiest time of the year. She gives him a thirty-second head start before calling him out on his bullshit. "You have absolutely no idea, do you?"
He rolls his eyes and flexes his jaw, holding back a sigh. "Well, we only just.."
She chuckles, shakes her head and takes two steps back. "From what I heard, between running into Harold and showing up at my doorstep, you had plenty of time to come up with something."
"Just get dressed, will you." He motions after her, but she's already retreating into her bedroom. He lets out a sigh then, while this wasn't his original plan for the evening given the paper he needs to write, he does consider this a way better way to spend his Saturday night.
Donna stares blindly at the mirror on the inside of her cabinet. Going on a day trip with Harvey has always been one of her favourite past times, but given the realisation, she came to not even twenty-four hours ago, this one makes her a little nervous.
She picks out a top from the middle shelf, letting the piece of fabric untangle in front of her, and she lets her gaze move back and forth between the shirt and her reflection. Sighing once, she tosses the shirt aside and reaches in again. This time picking out a black knit sweater with lace details.
Harvey paces through the small hallway, hands fiddling with the edge of his sleeves. He peeks inside the living room once, looking around but he finds it empty. He considers asking where Rachel and Samantha are, but he doesn't care enough actually to do so. Turning around as he nears the entrance, he walks back to the other end with the three doors.
She pushes her red strands over her shoulder, letting her hands run over the black fabric as she pulls it down over her frame. The lace around her neckline, showing a hint of the freckles spread over her chest. She loves this piece, and on any given day, she would have kept it on, but what on earth is one supposed to wear on a not-a-date-date night anyway.
Harvey stalls in front of her door, it's ajar, but he doesn't peer inside. Instead, he opts for leaning against the small dresser against the wall. Crossing his arms, he catches a glimpse of his wristwatch, and he swears it must have been at least ten minutes since he showed up at her doorstep. "What on earth are you doing in there?"
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
She turns around on her spot, eyes the pile of clothes on the floor near her bed and inwardly curses herself again. "Almost ready," she belts back, and she opts then to just go for her LGD. A Little Green Dress, because while a little black dress is a must-have, green is one of his favourite colours. She slips her arms through the sleeves and wraps the fabric around her frame, tying it together on her waist.
She finishes her look with knee-high socks over her pantyhose, a couple of comfortable ankle boots, and a tiny gold necklace she bought herself as his gift for her birthday last year. Quickly applying a fresh layer of mascara and lipstick, she fishes her favourite cardigan from her chair and puts it on.
"Hey.." he starts, still staring at his feet. "Why didn't you invite your - " he forgets the rest of his question when her bedroom door swings open, and he sees her appear. He instantly looks up to take her in, swallowing thickly as he does so. The green in stark contrast to her skin, but it makes her hair pop even more, and the way her dress wraps closely around her make his eyes linger on her chest. She looks breathtaking, and he can't stop himself from muttering a compliment. "Wow."
She was just about to ask if the outfit of her choice would do for whatever he had come up within the meantime when she heard him say it. "Is that a good wow or a bad wow?" she asks, pulling the collar of the cardigan over her shoulder and stands before him, hands wrapping together as she holds back a smile.
He snaps out of his thoughts at her question, but his brows knit together because of it. "How is a wow bad?"
"Ooh, you've had a few bad wows over the years, mister."
He rolls his eyes, fakes annoyance but then straightens himself a little. Standing tall as he speaks. "Well, this one isn't," he says, reassuring her of something that to him was a given. "You uhm… You look beautiful."
"She looks down and smiles at the floor. "Thank you,"
.
She stuffs her MetroCard back into her coat and follows him into the subway. Walking through the crowded cart, she lowers her pace as he stalls near an empty seat and signals for her to take it as he holds onto the metal bar beside it. She flashes him a soft smile as a thank you and sits down on the blue plastic bench.
"So where exactly are we going?"
He grins but shakes his head. "I told you, it's a surprise."
Her mouth drops, and she huffs. "You still don't know where we're going, do you."
He shakes his head once more, his grin even wider now. "I do," he corrects her. "But as I said, it's a surprise."
"Right."
He leans towards her. "You really think I'd take you on a random subway ride as our date."
She purses her lips and crosses her legs, bringing her hands to rest on her knees as she leans towards him as well. "Well, I think a lot of things."
The subway turns, and he loses his footing for a split second, but his hold on the bar keeps him up. He stands taller now, shoulders back and feet spread apart. He catches her biting down on her lip. "I don't want to hear it," he warns her then, it sounds like he's telling her not to laugh, but it's also a partial response to her whisper.
Donna avoids his gaze and smiles down at her hands, letting her thoughts wander for a stop of two. There's one thing she's been meaning to ask him, his presence at her play and why he didn't tell her, he had class. She inhales deeply and looks up before she speaks. "You sure your dad had a good time yesterday?" she asks first.
Harvey bobs his head up and down in confirmation. "Ooh he did, and I'm sure he'll keep inviting himself over until you retire or …" he pauses, not being able to get the words out. "Well, whatever comes first, you know."
She presses her lips into a thin line and nods. "Tell him I'll get him front-row seats for life."
He chuckles and says he will.
"Harvey - " she starts then, a little hesitant and she gulps when he glances down. His eyes locking with hers.
"23 Street."
"Shit," Harvey mumbles, breaking eye contact and he glances at the little map above the door. "This is us," he adds, moving and urging for her to get up too with an extended hand.
She grabs his hand and lets him pull her up, getting her out of the cart and onto the platform. The doors close just seconds later, and they both laugh in relief. "So," she starts again. "Where are we going."
He keeps up with his 'it's a surprise' stance, and instead of answering, he pulls on her arm and guides her towards the exit in the direction of 8th avenue, only letting go when they have to slip through the metal gate one by one. He signals the stairs with a tilt of his head and lets her walk ahead, staying a close step behind her until they're on the street. "This way." He signals and she follows Harvey suit, walking over 23 street until they reach 10 the avenue which they stroll down to 20th street, turning right once more.
The second they turn towards the Hudson River she gets an idea of where they're going. He did say it was about a fifteen-minute walk from the station, and it all seems to add up. "Chelsae Piers" she questions out loud, grinning proudly because she thinks she figured it out before he got to tell her. "What are we going to do here."
"You'll see." It's all he says until he stalls a couple of minutes later. A grin plastered across his face as he looks back and forth between the building and her, gauging her reaction.
She looks up at the metal-clad facade, eyeing the big red and white letters at the top. BOWLMOR LANES. "We're going bowling?" she asks, and she chuckles at the thought alone.
"We are," he says, peeking at the redhead again and he takes in the confusion written over her face. "Unless you want to go laser gaming or just go through the arcade," he quickly adds, leaving the final choice to her as he opens the door for her.
"Bowling is fine," she answers. "I've just… I have never been to."
He stares at her dumbfounded now. "You've never been bowling." Her glare tells him not to comment further, and he doesn't. Pressing his lips together and making the zip-up motion.
"Not since I was seven," Donna says, looking around the entrance and taking in all the neon letter signs. "How do you even know about this place?"
Harvey takes a moment to consider his answer, but he ends up telling her the truth. "It's Alex' fault, really. And Louis," he starts, and he pauses with a nod when she peers up at him in surprise. "We uhm. We discovered it's kind of a good way to get into this competitive headspace before a mock trial."
She can't help but chuckle because she had no clue what to expect, but this for sure, wasn't it. "Who are you?"
He gives her an unamused look in return and walks over to the check-in desk on his right, giving his name to the guy behind the counter. Who gives them lane number twelve and directs them to the shoe section around the corner.
She smiles at the guy behind the counter and walks after Harvey again, still trying to wrap her mind around how she didn't know this about her best friend. "So you three have been doing this for what…"
"Little over three years now," he answers picking a pair of shoes for himself and a pair for Donna from the shelf. He hands them over to her and sits down on the red leather bench. "Don't you dare tell Mike or Tanner."
She laughs, almost snorts now, and she gives him an apologetic look.
"Donna," he presses his warning.
She shakes her head, momentarily wondering how she can be in love with this idiot. "I promise," she whispers, pulling on the edge of her shoe. She kicks it off again. "These are too big, can you get me another pair."
Harvey ties his laces and gets up to grab her a smaller pair. She lets her gaze follow his motions and she from where she's sitting she can't help but notice his dress shirt riling up as he reaches for a pair from the top shelve. Her eyes automatically darting to his exposed stomach and the edge of his boxers.
She redirects her gaze the second he moves, swallowing thickly she glances down and crosses one leg over the other. Pretending the gesture was just to pick up the pair of shoes, but the flutter in the pit of her stomach barely lets her believe that.
"Here," he says, handing her another pair and taking the other from her again.
"They're kinda cute aren't they," she muses, peering at the red and blue shoes on her feet now.
"You sound like Louis."
"Well, the man has excellent taste," she counters instead of sounding offended.
"Really?"
She hums and gets up to walk to their assigned lane. "He likes classical music, the theatre and these cute shoes."
"Right," he says with a shake of his head. "Why don't you go ahead and fill in our names and I'll get us a drink." He signals the screen in the middle seat, and he's off to the bar. When he returns a couple of minutes later with two milkshakes, he catches her grin first, and he glances at the monitor above the lane next.
Donna vs Loser
"Ooh, it's on." He motions between his eyes and her.
"Okay, hotshot," she laughs now. "Give it to me." She grabs her milkshake and brings the straw to her lips, taking a big sip and savouring the strawberry flavour as she watches him pick a ball from the conveyer belt.
He does a spin next, and the ball leaves his hand in the middle of the lane, throwing a strike on his first go.
Her mouth drops, not so much in surprise as in annoyance cause she knows Harvey would have never kept up with any type of game for a few years if he weren't good at it, but this was another level. "What's this Grease 2."
He frowns and she slips over her seat, ready to get up for her turn. "Come on, everybody, gather round," she starts singing as she does so. Letting her fingers run over the balls and she picks up an orange one, swaying her hips as she nears the lane. "I'm gonna show you how to knock 'em down."
Except instead of a strike, a spare, or even a pin, Donna's first throw ends up in the gutter.
"Ooh," she whispers, shoulders dropping as she watches the ball disappear and the monitor change for her second throw. Harvey gives her a small smile when she returns to get another bowling ball.
"Guess so much for Grease 2."
He's only ever seen the first movie, but something about her makes him say it. "It could be."
"So you want me to kiss the first guy that walks into this place now?" She asks, raising an eyebrow as she studies his reaction. Confusion washing over his face, understandably so since she knows he's never seen this cult classic.
"Well, uhm no," his answer comes before he can truly think it over and he really should let her pick the movies more often if she's gonna throw plotlines at him like this. He catches the twinkle in her eyes, and he scrapes his throat. "We wouldn't last till December 31st."
She nods, his answer makes sense even if it just refers to their pact and her chest tightens at the realisation. "So you wouldn't learn to ride a bike for me?"
For a split second, he thought he saw a hint of disappointment regarding his answer, but the question that follows next makes him forget about it. He's sure the comment refers to the movie once more, so he bluffs because she couldn't possibly know anyway. "I can ride."
She frowns at first, but then she changes her mind. "No, you can't."
"I can."
"I'm calling your father."
He sits taller then, elbow hitting leaning on the table. "Okay, enough, Sandy. Throw that second ball. I have a game to win."
Donna chuckles at his misuse of the name, but she doesn't comment on it. She stays quiet as she reaches for another one, doing her best to stand still and throw it in the middle of the lane. She manages to do just that, but the ball spins to the side of the lane just before the pins, disappearing in the gutter once more.
Harvey changes places with Donna, throwing a spare this time around and the redhead manages to take down three pins on her second go. On the third round, he throws another strike, so when he turns around to make place for her again, he notices from the look on her face that she isn't enjoying it as much as he hoped she would.
She'd deny it, to anyone who'd ever ask or even dare to point it out, he knows better though because deep down she's as competitive as he is. Can't take a loss. "Come here," he says, extending his hand and he sees the disappointment in her eyes change into confusion but her hand lands in his own nevertheless. He gently pulls on her hand, getting her to stand, and he fetches the orange ball from the belt.
"Harvey, what are you doing?"
"Teaching my girlfriend how to bowl," he answers, holding the bowling ball in front of her. He shrugs at the look she gives him in return and glances around the place. "Can't have it look like I'm this douche now can I."
Donna chuckles at that, and when he holds up the ball again, she takes in in her hand.
He rounds her, right hand brushing over her arm as he pushes her to take a step towards the start of the lane. He remains closely behind her, watching her as she takes a deep breath. "You've got this," he reassures her, bringing his right hand to her wrist, his left resting on her hip as he guides her arm back. "Two steps."
They move in unison, taking two steps and swinging her arm towards the lane to throw the ball. Her hand still lingers in the air as she lets go, his hand falls to her waist. Holding her close, her back resting against his chest, they watch the orange ball make its way down the lane hitting all ten pins in one go.
"Striiiiiiiiike."
She jumps up in excitement when the monitor's voice echoes through the room, breaking her contact with Harvey, who takes a step back and flexes his hands by his side at the loss of contact. She cheers and turns around in another jump, the biggest of smiles spreading over her face. Her entire body on high, not just from the successful throw and she feels another shiver run down her spine when she catches his smile.
Her eyes lock with his, and her hand almost lands on his shoulder as she comes down. Their smiles match, the twinkle in their eyes too and it's the second time this day she takes his breath away because he feels his throat dry up as an awkward tension settles down between them. He knows he should say something, congratulate her on her throw, but the words die on the tip of his tongue. He ends up doing the only thing he's able to, raising his hand for a high five.
Donna stares at him for a second, unsure of what to do cause they've never shared one before, but he gives her a look that says don't leave me hanging, so she returns the gesture. Her palm hitting his and just like any other touch between them, this one ignites a spark, especially when his large hand folds around hers.
It's just a high five, a touch of the hand, but he feels it everywhere. A tingle starting in the tip of his fingers, over his spine all the way down to his toes. He gives her hand a gentle squeeze then, just one more touch before the inevitability of letting go presents itself.
She pulls her hand back just as fast as he does, running it over her side she tries to hide the tremor, and she strides to the seating area behind the lane to make room for him.
He swallows, letting his eyes close as he takes a moment to gain his composure. Exhaling slowly, he turns around and walks back to the conveyer belt. His next throw is another strike, and it was her previous excitement at a score that had almost become normal to him that has him cheer too.
She watches him throw his arms in the air, his white dress shirt riling up just like before. It's just a bit, but the tiny glimpse of his skin has her shifting in her chair all the same. She pushes her cardigan off her shoulders, letting the fabric pool around her elbows, and she waits for him to return to the seat next to her.
Donna copies the moves Harvey had shown her the round before, and she hits six pins on the first throw now. It's a split, and she manages to make her score eight with the next ball.
"Nice."
She smiles and slides down onto the booth next to him, her arm touching his as she does so. She notices how he doesn't get up right away to take his turn, so she breathes in and eyes him. Eventually giving his hand a playful slap to get him in gear. "Go on then," she muses, reaching for her drink to occupy her hands. "Go throw that strike."
Just like the previous round, she uses the opportunity this setting provides to take him in. Letting her gaze trail over his every step, from his legs over his butt to his back. His broad shoulders, head held high and the swing of his arms. She watches Harvey stall near the conveyer belt, lean down and catches the way his muscles flex under the thin white fabric of his shirt.
She fixates on his hands next, watches the way he picks up one of the heaviest balls with both hands. It's probably unconsciously, but no doubt to show off. She doesn't mind; for once, she lets him. Eyeing the way he turns it around in his grasp, so precisely it's almost a caress - his middle finger slides over the number then into the hole, and she swallows. Her eyes closing along with it, but the movement does nothing to erase the vastly more inappropriate image her mind conjured up.
It's only when she hears the sound of his shoes hitting the timber beneath them that she snaps out of her thought and pushes herself to stand. A motion he notices, and he peers at her over his shoulder.
"Uhm… I… Just going to get us another drink."
"Okay," he hums with a shrug before he returns to the game.
She checks the scores on the monitor when she returns, noticing he ended up throwing a split, but nine pins in total anyway and she can't help but chuckle to herself. Of course, he would still get such a high score. "Only nine?" she teases, handing him his glass.
"Thought I'd level the playing field a bit."
She calls him an idiot because of his smug smile, but all she can focus on is the way his fingertips bump against hers when he takes over his drink. She tells herself to get a grip, to not read into these little touches; are it moments they've always had but been so insignificant that she believed they were never there or are they indeed new? Tiny movements pushing a boundary.
She doesn't get a chance to overthink it even more because he tells her it's her turn now. And she manages to let it go for the rest of the game, getting better at it with each round but he keeps throwing spares and strikes. So for the next round, she's also taken it upon herself to distract him just as he throws.
He misses, his ball spinning into the gutter for the first time that afternoon. There's no way this would make him lose the game, but he throws her a disapproving look all the same.
"What?"
"That's cheating."
She grins, thinks about his comment of levelling the playing field. "Nah, a gentleman would let his girlfriend win."
"Well, you already knew I wasn't a gentleman," he counters, and he turns back around to throw his second ball of this round. The ball slips from his hand and hits the lane skewed, only taking down four pins with it's run.
Donna bites down on her lip to hide her grin, she may have teased him a little, but it's the worst throw he's made this afternoon on his own. She gets up to throw again, managing to make it a spare all by herself and when Harvey watches her smile, he considers this to be his favourite moment over all the strikes he'd scored himself.
He gets up, his right hand finding her shoulder as he passes and he gets ready for his final round and like most of his earlier rounds he manages to take down the ten pins in one go.
"Striiiiiike."
Donna cheers for him, clapping her hands and because she never sat back down, she's near the conveyer belt in a heartbeat. Picking up the orange ball she'd been using all afternoon.
Harvey watches her move, and he looks up at the monitor, checking one more time to see if this wasn't the final round after all, but before he can stop her, he hears the ball roll down the lane. "Wait."
Donna freezes on her spot and turns to look at him.
"I was supposed to throw again."
Her eyes widen when she realises it wasn't her turn just yet and she brings her hands to cover her mouth. "Ooh my god. I'm so sorry, Harvey. I didn't see - "
Harvey laughs and shakes his head. There's no way he could possibly lose anymore, but even if he could, he doesn't care. "Just throw the other one too," he tells her, motioning for her to go ahead with a bob of his head.
She flashes him another apologetic smile but does as she's told. Getting another ball, she repeats her apology and gets ready.
Harvey sits back down at the booth, draping his arm over the empty seat next to him as he watches her throw. There are just four pins left on the lane, and he knows she will do her absolute best to throw him a spare. She does, earning him a total of 171 points.
Donna eyes the scoreboard as she now gets ready for her final round. Having just thrown the middle wait ball on Harvey's turn she has to opt for a heavier one. Picking up a twelve, she holds it in both hands and turns to face him. "If I throw a strike, you're buying me dinner."
He knows the chances of her doing so are slim, but he agrees, "deal." He would have paid for their dinner anyways, but it's her smile and the way she bobs her head up and down in excitement as she turns around that makes him wish she would throw that strike regardless.
Holding the ball up close to her chest, she focuses on the ten pins at the end of the lane. She inhales deeply and then takes the two steps forward, letting the ball slip from her hand in the middle of the lane exactly as he had shown her.
Harvey shifts in his chair a bit, peeking up to watch. His eyes widening as the ball makes it way down, still through the middle.
Donna holds her breath, hands clutched together against her frame as the pins fall, one after another. Seven, eight, nine and then the one remaining pin spins, and spins but it doesn't fall—the scoreboard echoing it, nine.
She sighs, and he does too, and even though it's just a friendly game, he can see a hint of disappointment in her eyes when she turns around. "Damn.," she mumbles, a sad smile on her face. "I really wanted Thai."
He laughs then, realising she's just messing with him. He motions for her to throw her last ball. "You and I both know I'm going to buy you dinner anyway," he reasons. "But not Thai."
Donna's last throw comes close, but it still misses the one pin. She walks back then, sliding down on the seat next to him. Eyes flickering up as the machine tallies the scores, and it reads "loser wins the game." She laughs at that, her back hitting the booth at last and her shoulders coming into contact with his arm, they share a look.
"Want to go for another round?" He asks, "we have time."
She thinks over his offer for a second, grabbing her drink as she does so. She shakes her head then. "Nah, one game I can just pretend I let you win, two would be too much for your ego to handle."
He chuckles at her comment and finishes his drink. "Come on," he says then, "let's get some food."
.
It's colder now than it was when they left home, but it hasn't started to snow yet, so they decide to walk for a bit. Crossing 11th avenue and walking down West 20th Street until they reach the Highline, the attraction makes them stall for a moment. Glancing up at the people walking over it.
"I love this part of Manhattan."
Harvey turns to look at Donna at her admission, he peers back the old subway tracks. "I've only walked it once," he admits, he doesn't have to face her to know she looks at him waiting for an explanation. "When I came to the city for the first time, just never - "
She bobs her head up and down in understanding. He's always been the one to get somewhere fast, go from point A to B with as little distraction as possible while she could take hours just wandering a tiny street. She reaches for his elbow then, pulling him ever so slightly in the direction of the staircase. "Let's change that."
They stroll over the Highline further south, stopping every now and then to take in the city they currently live in. They've crossed about four blocks when it starts to snow, lightly but enough to have her shiver. Harvey suggests they get down and find a more covered route and place to eat.
"What do you want?" he asks as they make their way down the stairs. "And you can't pick Thai cause we're nowhere close to that shitty place you love."
"Italian," she answers, picking his favourite cuisine.
He smiles at that. "Okay," he says, helping her off the last step and they take in their surroundings now that they're at street level again. His gaze eventually landing on the terracotta-coloured brick facade across the street; the name displayed on the awning sounding Italian to him. "Come on, let's go."
He holds the door open for her, letting her enter first, and they shake off the droplets of snow from their coats once they're inside. They still can't see much of this place, but climb the four steps anyway. It leads them to the two-floor high dining room where a host welcomes them.
"Hello," Harvey greets the woman in return. "We'd like to have dinner."
The woman smiles and asks if they have a reservation.
He swallows and looks to Donna. "Ooh," he mumbles, "no."
"Alright," the woman checks the reservation book. "You're lucky. We'll have a table for you shortly. Would you like to wait at the bar?"
Donna almost gapes as she takes in her surroundings, the checkered floor, the large columns and the lighting, but Harvey is already following the host to the bar, so she has no choice but to walk after him. She grabs his arm as they sit down on the barstools, leaning in closer, she whispers: "What is this place?"
Harvey shrugs and shakes his head. He'd never heard of the place before, but they're here now, and there's a table for them on a Saturday night, so he's beyond questioning it.
"Looks fancy as hell," she whispers next, and she returns to sit properly on her seat when the barman returns and asks for a drink of their choice. Donna turns to look at the menu behind the man, but there isn't much that rings a bell.
"A dauphine for her and I'll have an old fashioned," Harvey breaks the silence, nodding at the barman as he turns around and hands them the two drinks of their choice.
They each reach for their glass, raising it in a silent toast. He takes a sip and lets his gaze wander around, taking in the restaurant better now, and he must agree with Donna's assessment. It looks fancy.
"Harvey."
His attention returns to the redhead by his side when she whispers his name and touches his arm. He catches a somewhat panicked look in her eyes, and he frowns then, silently asking what's wrong, and he looks at the menu she slides in his direction. He's got no clue where she got it from, but he eyes the piece of paper now too.
She taps on the menu, right next to the listed dishes. The place where a price would normally be displayed and his eyes scan the document once more. Noticing it now too, there aren't any prices listed.
"Shit."
She leans in once more. "We can't possibly afford this place."
He has a feeling she is right; his first reaction is different though. "How bad can it be," he mutters to himself, lifting the piece of paper to inspect it once over.
Donna catches the menu options on the other side then, and she nearly chokes on air when she does see a price listed there. Reaching up, she turns the menu around and taps on the top where the first option starts at $179 per person.
"Jesus… I-"
The host walks by them then, telling them their table is almost ready and Donna does her best to smile at the woman, politely thanking her but they're both freaking out.
"But - "
Donna stops him with a hand on his wrist. "Follow my lead," she whispers a mere second before her phone rings. She lets it go over once, twice, taking the extra second to fish her phone from her bag; ensuring that everyone in the restaurant has heard it.
He watches her pull out her phone and answer it. Confused, he frowns at his best friend, but that's when he hears it. The gasp leaving her lips anything but discrete, the 'oh my god' that follows even louder and he know realises she's doing it on purpose.
So when he sees a waiter turn his head in their direction, he bites back a smile and puts on his best poker face. Faking concern.
"No, of course," she continues loudly. "Absolutely no problem. We will be right on our way, I promise," she adds, tapping Harvey on his hand once more and signalling for the barman to come over in one go as she ends her call. "I'm so sorry," she speaks as she leans towards the bar. "It's an emergency, can we get the check please."
The barman mumbles something under his breath, but he complies, entering their order into the register.
Harvey quickly reaches for the wallet from the pocket of his pants, pulling out his credit card he slides it over the counter towards the other man. The transaction is quiet, and he clutches onto his card and the paper receipt all the way until they're outside again.
She doesn't know if she should cry or laugh, probably both but it ends up being the latter the second they hit the curb. Pulling on her scarf, she wraps it around her neck and holds her coat close to her frame. "What's the damage?"
Harvey only checks the bill once they're on the move. Gulping as he sees the number at the bottom of the piece of paper. "Forty-five," he answers, and he stuffs both objects back into his wallet.
"Forty-five dollars," she repeats in shock. Neither really pay that much attention when eating out, treating one another all the time and taking turns when ordering in but this was more than a bit over budget for two graduate students.
He nods, and all they can do is laugh, loudly. He compliments her on her quick thinking and acting skills to get them out of there. Donna admits she's always wanted to do that and couldn't let the opportunity slide. She promises him to split the bill, but he shrugs and says it's fine.
She smiles and motions towards the subway station. "Come on," she says. "Let's go home, and we'll cook pasta instead."
"You mean I'll cook dinner," he corrects her.
She eyes him unimpressed, but it's the truth. She has improved over the years. Due to him and mostly Rachel, still, she's anything but a kitchen princess, and they both remember one of the first nights they spend together. Him tending to her burnt hand.
"Your bowling is better than your cooking Paulsen."
"Ooh," she scoffs, her shoulder bumping into his as they descend to the platform just in time for the red-line to appear. "Just for that comment, you're getting me dessert too," she says as she walks ahead and steps into the subway.
It's more crowded now, no doubt due to the weather and time and they end up standing close. Both holding onto to the same railing until the subway comes to a rather abrupt halt at Christopher St. The doors open and the voice of the operator announces that this train has been cancelled.
They groan and get out, checking the displays for further information. It tells them there are delays due to a problem on the tracks. The supposed wait almost as long as walking home would be and they opt for the latter making their way down to 6th Avenue.
He'd been hungry even before they entered the last place and he knows she's just pretending to be fine. "Okay. Let's just find another place to eat okay," he announces as they reach the intersection. "There must be some Italian here, right?" he questions, signalling the advertisements on the corner building.
DOnna nods in agreement; she isn't sure if there is but she's certain there must be a place to eat nearby. She tabs his arm with her elbow and redirects him from the big intersection to the smaller street that slopes towards theirs.
They walk past one building with a fire escape to the next, little take outs left and right. From Mexican to Chinees, it's not what they had in mind, and eventually, they find themselves looking at a yellow window display of a small restaurant across the laundromat.
Harvey takes a step closer towards the Italian joint and peers inside. The place is packed, and he doubts they'll have any room left or available soon. He steps back then, letting out a sigh and he shakes his head.
She shrugs, pulls on his arm and links his with her own. Guiding him back through the street.
"Sorry."
"Why?"
He thinks this isn't how it's supposed to go, but he can't tell her that so he shrugs and just walks back with her towards Washington Square.
"There's always take out," she reassures him. "Or something else," she adds, signalling the cocktail bar on their left. It was the first place they walked by, and even though it wasn't what either of them had in mind, they step inside.
It's busy too, but there's room for two at the bar, and they gladly take the seats. Shrugging off their coats, they hang them over the stools and sit down. He orders both of them a drink as Donna studies the menu. She jokes about not getting to act once more, and he laughs, says that's good cause he's starving. They don't serve pasta, but they do have his favourite burger, and she just about melts when she sees his face lit up at the knowledge. She orders some tacos.
They talk about her plans for her birthday the following night, and she tells him they're doing karaoke, he groans and begs her not to but picking an event no questions asked is a rule in their group of friends. He also knows she'll probably manage to drag him onto the stage against his wishes. She just snickers, reaching forward to steal a fry from his plate.
As always he pretends to be annoyed, but he saves her a couple of fries anyway. He manages to get their second drink in just before the end of happy hour. It's cheap but tasty and while it's far from what either of them imagined it's perfect.
Until it isn't.
And that's a stretch really, cause they're having a good time and it's just a stupid song, but he hates it. And he hates how she loves it, and it only takes three cords for her eyes to lit up and smile. She taps his shoulder and grins even wider now.
"No," he shakes his head, eyes closing when Maria's voice belts through the room.
"Yes," she grins, humming along and it could be a lot worse cause at least half of the bar's occupants are singing along.
He groans, and she laughs even louder. It's the same every single year. It's why Mike and Tanner randomly put in on during this time of the year; it's why she made it her ringtone at one point, and it's why he classifies Christmas music as a whole as something that should have never existed.
He punishes her by finishing the last fry himself. Smiling smugly at her pout, he downs his beer and asks if she wants to go home. She nods, finishes her drink too and a few minutes later they find themselves walking through Washington Square.
It' has stopped snowing by now but it's white outside, and the decorative lights make the park just a tad more magical. People are lighting a Christmas tree in the middle and Donna stalls a little just to watch.
He doesn't question it, just waits right beside her, and while he isn't cold, he can see her rubbing her hands against one another. He contemplates reaching for her hand, holding it. For warmth really. It should be such a simple gesture, much like she held onto his arm earlier and yet he finds himself second-guessing everything right now.
So he sticks his hands into the pockets of his coat, keeping them there until he sees her shiver and her nose twitches. He pulls out the beanie that was still inside, and he turns to face her. "Come here," he whispers, and he wais until she looks up at him too before he brings the hat to her head. Gently pulling it over her ears.
She shivers again, not just because of the cold, but he pulls her closer all the same. Telling her to put her hands in his pockets. She doesn't, just stares at him quizzically, so he takes hold of her hands instead. Her breath hitches in her throat, and her heart skips a beat as she watches him, gazes locking for a moment until he brings their joined hands up to his face.
Her gaze trails to his lips as he blows over her cold fingers. She can't help but think about what it would be like if he kissed her now. She finds herself wishing he would kiss her now.
She knows he won't, because he doesn't want it. She even thinks it's not about not wanting her per se, but she knows he doesn't want a relationship and therefore she knows he would never cross that line with her.
He rubs his thumb over her hand, running in circles as he feels warmth return to her fingertips. He watches her intently, but she isn't looking him in the eye anymore. So he takes a moment to revel in how close she is, almost in his grasp, holding her against his chest.
She's so close he could just close the gap between them.
He watches the snowflakes drop on the top of her nose, her rosy cheeks and his gaze flicks down to her lips. He gulps when she tilts her head, peeking away as not to get caught but she lowers her head, and he tilts his.
He thinks if she hadn't had her rules, he would have kissed her. He closes his eyes, letting his chin rest on top of her head instead. And he doesn't just think, but he knows, if she hadn't had her rules, he would have kissed her.
He doesn't. Instead, he holds her in his arms, and they stand there together for a couple of minutes until the snow starts falling harder and she shivers again. He opens his eyes again and steps back, letting go of her; he offers her a small smile.
She peers up at him, a thought crossing her mind for the umpteenth time that day. She does end up voicing it now. "Harvey, can I ask you something?"
He turns to look at her, concern written over his face as his eyes find hers once more. He nods.
"Why didn't you tell me you were coming to the play?"
The concern turns into confusion, and his brows draw together as he starts to wonder where this is coming from. "When have I not been there?" he counters, both a question and an answer in one.
"Well, never but -"
"Where's this coming from?" he asks.
"Rach," she whispers, letting out a sigh. "And Mike, they said you guys had a class, and that's why they couldn't make it."
"Ooh," he chuckles. "Yeah."
"So you skipped it."
"I didn't skip it." The lie comes out before he can truly think it over. "I uhm.. I talked to professor Gerard and told him I was otherwise engaged and that it would be unethical for me to go back on a verbal agreement of my attendance for a last-minute change of class that left me no proper time to potentially rearrange engagements. And we negotiated about an essay to keep up my attendance score."
He's actually impressed by his own lie, and he now scolds himself for not having gone this route and facing the professor head-on. His reasoning startles her for about a second, but she can see from the hint of confusion in his eyes that something is off. She chuckles then.
"You mean you pretended to be sick, and he found out and now you have to write an essay."
"Pretty much yes," he admits, "but he never gives higher than an A so missing one class won't hurt."
She laughs then, and he laughs too. "You know I would never miss your performance, so you don't ever have to worry about it again."
She smiles softly. "I'm sorry I doubted you."
"I'm sorry I made you doubt me," he says as he catches her glancing down and shuffle on her spot. He puffs, catches his breath forming steam due to the cold. "Come on," he says then, extending his hand. "Let's go home."
Her hand slides over his before she can second guess the motion, something she wonders about the moment his fingers fold around hers and a gentle tug urges her to move forward. It feels natural, holding his hand, being close like this and yet it all fuels into a fantasy she now knows is something only she wants to be true.
It almost makes her pull away, but she doesn't, wallowing at the moment in fear of a more awkward tension when she does so. At least now they can both pretend it's still part of their charade. There's no one they know near them that warrants the behaviour, but they're out, and they know their friends are too. It's a possibility and thus okay; or so she tells herself, ignoring the way it makes her heart skip a beat every time he glances over at her. And for a man who doesn't want a relationship, doesn't date and as she claimed herself doesn't know how to woo a lady, their night is far from textbook perfect, but to her, it is perfect all the same.
So when they reach her floor and she stalls in front of her door, keys dangling from her hand, she tells him she had a great time tonight. The voice inside her head screaming at how cheesy romcom this actually is.
She is reminded her life isn't a movie when he says the same, but the standard kiss does not follow it.
He's seen the movies, knows this is as much of a moment as it will ever present itself, much like earlier in the park, but she has her rules. Not dating a housemate, not dating a co-star and then a dozen of others they scribbled down on paper and called it a contract.
He's enough of an upcoming lawyer to argue his way out of the binding agreement, but he doesn't, respecting her boundaries. So he doesn't step closer, doesn't bring his hand to the beanie that's still gracing her hair, and doesn't let his hand slip through a damp strand to kiss her.
Instead, he thanks her for saving him of a night with Harold and takes a step back.
"Good night, Donna."
.
When Harvey comes home the rest is still out, and he lets himself drop down on the barstool at the realisation, glass of scotch in hand. His mind running a hundred miles an hour as he tries to wrap his head around what the hell this night was.
A lie to not have to spend an evening with Harold.
At the same time, it was a way of wanting to prove his father and Donna wrong with their comments from the day before.
It was wanting to spend a night with her even if he said he didn't and she has her rules.
He kicks back the remainder of his alcohol and retreats to bed. Laying there, tossing and turning as sleep stays out. He turns over onto his side and lifts his phone from the nightstand, automatically opening up his last message to her. He stares at it but doesn't text.
Donna rolls around, unable to sleep too. Phone in hand, she catches herself typing the same message over and over again. Deleting it each and every time until she decides to bite the bullet and just hit send.
You awake?
Her phone rings not a minute later, and she answers in a beat. "Hey."
"Hey," he says. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Couldn't sleep. It's just - " she pauses, turning around and she peers at the empty spot beside her. "I guess I got used to falling asleep talking to you."
He glances at the pillow next to him, envisioning her red hair spread out across it. Just like her arms would be. "Yeah, it's pretty weird having more than an inch of my bed again."
She rolls her eyes, and there's a moment of silence. Followed by another. Neither speaks anymore, but neither ends the call, they just lay there listening to one another's breathing. And as the minutes tick by and her eyes start to close, she remembers the dream she woke up to this morning. She can't positively say if it was just that or if he did indeed came over last night, but she finds herself wishing he would now.