Author's Note: This chapter takes place outside of the office, but I'm planning on the next chapter being a longer one with some more Mike/Rachel stuff and possibly an appearance from Louis because he has been sadly absent so far :(
Chapter 8
He doesn't know what he's doing here – in a dimly lit bar, already on his third scotch when it's barely seven. Scottie sits in the chair opposite his, one leg crossed demurely over the other, matching him drink for drink. She doesn't even like scotch.
There's a tension between them; one that has nothing to do with lust or the warped power plays that have become commonplace for them. Scottie briefs him on the case in clipped, short sentences.
Moments of silence stretch out between them, diffused only by the alcohol that burns slowly down his throat and hers. Harvey drains the rest of his glass and motions to the waitress to bring them both another. Scottie's glass is still half full when the waitress sets their drinks on the table.
Admittedly, he's been a coward. Her office is situated at the opposite end of the floor and he has made it a habit never to venture that far down the hall. And he's been distracted, but selfish more than anything. He's found through experience that a pissed off Scottie is much easier to approach. He doesn't have the faintest idea how to deal with the fallout of actually hurting her. He's never given her feelings the consideration they warrant.
He does that.
She has finished off her drink and now cradles the other in her hand, swirling the amber liquid inside the glass. She hasn't said anything for a good five minutes, about the case or anything else for that matter. Not that he minds, he deserves her silence. But he also can't stand it any longer.
"I can tell Darby no, if that's what you want."
The way her head snaps up and her eyes meet his in a hard glare indicate that it is exactly not what she wants.
"Sorry," he amends, "I didn't mean to imply…"
Scottie places her drink back on the table. "Edward asked for the best, and I begrudgingly suggested you."
Harvey accepts the compliment with unusual grace, refraining from commenting.
"Then why both of us?" he asks. Scottie quirks an eyebrow at him. It's almost nice to finally see her wear a less icy expression.
"Right, he doesn't trust me."
Scottie scoffs, "That's the understatement of the year."
The two share a small smirk, a fraction of the tension ebbing away. She uncrosses her legs and lets them cross naturally at the ankles. Her movements are slow and he wonders if the manoeuvre is deliberate. Harvey yanks at his tie, loosening the knot.
"Tell me Harvey, is there a reason you refused to have this meeting inside your office?" she says.
"Neutral ground?" he suggests.
She nods simply, her face impassive again. He never remembers her being this difficult to read. "You're paying for these drinks," she says.
"It's the least I can do." It's the closest he has come to referencing what happened – or didn't – between them and it comes out sounding jilted and wrong. Scottie looks as if she's about to respond but instead takes a gulp of her drink, as if to quiet herself.
He switches tactic, "Exactly how much of this case will require me to spend time with Darby?"
"Still bitter that his name is occupying the space where yours should be?" she retorts. There's an obvious malice behind her words but he takes it in stride.
"I refuse to kiss your boss' ass," he says indignantly.
"Your boss too," she notes. "Why are you bothering? I've never known you to be this pliant."
"Jessica insisted."
"And you started following orders when?"
"What choice do I have now?" he says defensively.
Silence engulfs them again and Harvey's drink becomes even more interesting than before. So yes, he's still bitter, and Scottie of all people knows how add salt to a wound he thought was already healed. His head is starting to swim by the time he's polished off the last of his scotch.
This time Scottie orders another for him. He doesn't protest.
The lights seem brighter now, the yellow glow illuminating her flushed skin. She's more relaxed now, alcohol buzzing in her system. He once loved drinking with her, back when she would visit and things were easier between them. He grew comfortable with their games. They were predictably unpredictable and she screwed him over again and again and he always gave as good as he got.
But tonight he's charting dangerous territory because he was sure he was done with her. Except she isn't regarding him with anger anymore, but giving him a look he's seen countless times since they've known one another, and stirring something inside of him that he's even more familiar with.
He stupidly combats this with more drinking, then pretends not to notice when her chair slides closer to his. Pretty soon they've abandoned all pretence of Darby's case and work isn't even a subject anymore. For a while it seems easy; to return back to the status quo and the push and pull that has always existed between them. She sways in her chair and he shoulder brushes his.
It's encroaching on ten o'clock when they walk out the bar, an unmistakable sway in their step. The cold air nips at Harvey's face, cooling his warm skin. Scottie stumbles slightly on the sidewalk and clutches at Harvey's elbow before she can break a heel.
"You have always been a weak drinker," he tells her, making sure to emphasise the word 'weak', knowing it will rile her up.
"I kept up with you."
"That was your first mistake."
She stills, her eyes trained on his lips. "And what's my second?"
The intent behind her question is clear and Harvey isn't quite sure why he steps closer to her, rather than putting her in a cab and sending her home. Her lips clash against his and when he shuts his eyes it causes a dizzying effect on his alcohol-addled brain.
It takes longer than it should before he tears his mouth from hers and when he pulls back Scottie is staring at him curiously. But he doesn't notice because he feels nothing but sick inside and when his eyes squeeze shut all he can see is flashes of red.
She drags herself from the warmth of her bed and trudges over to the door, groaning at the insistent knock. Donna yanks at the door, prepared to hurl abuse at whoever stands on the other side. Instead she sees Harvey slumped against her doorframe, his tie askew, his suit horribly wrinkled and the heady stench of scotch on his breath.
"This is a good look for you," she mutters sardonically.
But he doesn't smirk or crack a smile. He crumples against her and wraps his arms around her waist. Donna staggers under the weight of him but lets her own arms slip around his neck. Harvey buries his face against her shoulder and inhales deeply. His fingers tug against her sweatshirt, or more accurately, his.
"You're sleeping in my shirt," he mumbles matter-of-factly, lifting his head to look down at her. Donna smiles bashfully, her fingers floating over the fabric of the shirt sub-consciously.
"I told you I was keeping it."
"You look good in it."
"I know."
Harvey smiles lazily before his eyes widen. "Shit, you were sleeping."
"I get up every morning before six, of course I am sleeping."
"Sorry I didn't call," he says guiltily. She doesn't say anything, just tugs at his wrist and ushers him toward her bedroom.
When they are standing at the foot of her bed she faces him and closes the small space between them. Donna undoes his tie, lets it falls to the floor. She removes his jacket and hangs it neatly over the chair by her bed. She unbuttons his once crisp, white shirt and allows it to land in a heap beside his tie. His belt and pants are next, and Donna gives a pleased smirk when he releases a monosyllabic sound at the feel of her dextrous fingers.
When Harvey is dressed only in his underwear, Donna directs him to the bed, her hands firm on his shoulders to keep him from fumbling in the dark. They slip under the covers and she spoons up against him. But then he turns her body around so her face is opposite his.
Harvey anchors one hand to her hipbone and glides the other through her ponytail, twirling it around his finger. He drops a lingering kiss to her lips that tastes of expensive scotch.
"How did the meeting with the client go?"
Harvey stiffens. "That bad huh?"
"Alcohol proved very necessary."
She chuckles at the slur of his sentence. "I see that."
"You should have come with me, you're a lot more charming than I am," he says fondly.
"This is true."
"You keep me in line," he agrees.
"I keep you from acting like yourself," she teases.
Harvey pauses. "You make me better."
Donna is momentarily thrown by how much his words touch her. She's sure he can see her stupid smile, even in the dark. His kisses her again, this time with more urgency.
"I'm sorry I came home like this," he mumbles against her lips.
Donna decides to the let the 'home' remark slide. "You'll pay for it with a hangover in the morning."
Harvey nestles further against her. "Then I guess we will have to take the morning off."
"The law doesn't wait for your sobriety, Harvey."
His hands continue to toy with the hem of the Harvard sweatshirt. "Did I mention how good you look in this?"
"Several times."
"Take it off," he practically whines.
But Donna eyelids have already fallen closed again. "No, we're sleeping."
"If I go to sleep with the room still spinning I will definitely wake up with a hangover."
Donna slaps him half-heartedly. "You cannot use the threat of your potential hangover to coax me into having sex with you."
"But I've missed you," he says nearly inaudibly that Donna is sure she imagines it.
"We had sex this morning in your shower, Harvey," she deadpans, "And if you weren't totally hammered right now, you would never even say such a thing."
He doesn't respond and she thinks he may have fallen asleep.
"You know I mean it though, right?" he tentatively asks, and he's never sounded so vulnerable that it makes her heart ache.
She knows she should say something in response, but he's rendered her silent that she can only nod against his cheek. Harvey is too out of it to even realise the effect he's having on her and she has to reel herself in to keep from saying something stupid that he'll forget by the time he's awake and sober again.
"Goodnight, Harvey."
Apparently he decides to say something stupid instead, "Love you."
His body is slack and unconscious before she even has the chance to react.
I'm not trying to hate on Harvey because I love him no matter how poor his actions and decisions can be, but things can't always be smooth sailing! Also, the next update shouldn't take as long as the last.