Another delayed update I know, but this one is longer than usual, so thanks for your patience :)
Should be wrapping this one up in a chapter or two.
Chapter 11
When the weekend arrives, it is a welcome respite. She sleeps through most of Saturday, to the point where she wakes up and the sun is already beginning to set. She's satisfied to spend her night in a similar state, curled up on her couch with a bottle of wine, flicking mindlessly through T.V channels. Rachel however, has a different plan for the two of them when she shows up on Donna's doorstep dressed to the nines.
"We're going out," she announces with an excitement that Donna resents.
Donna toys self-consciously with the draw string of her yoga pants. Rachel thankfully doesn't comment on the fact that she has quite obviously been in bed all day.
"Thanks Rach, but I really can't think of anything worse right now."
Rachel deflates a little, but doesn't let Donna's resistance deter her. She invites herself inside, her heels clacking across the floor boards. Donna follows Rachel, her bare feet padding silently behind her. Rachel goes straight for the bedroom, making a direct beeline to Donna's closet. She opens it with gusto, admiring Donna's vast collection of dresses, blouses and skirts. Donna tries not to think about the person who has essentially paid for all of it.
"It's a Saturday night, I've barely seen you outside of the office in the past month, so we are going out," she informs Donna as she flicks through her closet, carefully selecting a dress.
Eventually she extracts a white dress with a sweetheart neckline that flows from the waistline. It's playful and sexy and Donna knows she can do some damage in it – which makes her only more reluctant to wear it.
Rachel inspects it with wide, appreciative eyes. "Oh, I am definitely borrowing this." She grins, pushing it into Donna's hands. Rachel reaches behind Donna's head and untangles the knot at the nape of her neck. "I'll be in the kitchen starting on the bottle of wine I know you have in your fridge. You have half an hour."
Donna rolls her eyes at her friend, yet can't help but crack a smile at her. "I can be ready in twenty. This face doesn't need a lot of maintenance," she jokes, despite being acutely aware of the dark circles under eyes. Rachel looks practically gleeful, before her gaze abruptly narrows.
"What?"
Rachel's eyes zero in on the faded Harvard logo on her shirt.
"Is that –?"
Donna's hands fly to her collar. "I better get ready," she says, stashing herself away in the adjoining bathroom. She slumps against the bathroom door, breathing a sigh of relief when she hears the clipped sound of Rachel's shoes as she retreats from the bedroom. She strips off her shirt, flinging it into the sink, feeling stupid for having been caught wearing it.
He's at some swanky, pretentious rooftop bar with a name like 'The Deck' or 'The Tower' or something equally obvious. Of course it's freezing so they're inside, which kind of defeats the whole purpose. He suspects that he was dragged here by his associate as some sort of apology, though he knows his corporate card will likely be paying for their drinks all night. Mike has been walking on egg shells around him since his outburst and at some point he might actually feel bad for biting his head off.
Mike buys them both glass of Macallan neat and Harvey watches his associate with an amused smirk as he pretends to enjoy the drink.
"If you can't handle it, you shouldn't order it."
"I'm a grown up, Harvey. I can handle it," he argues, spluttering as he speaks.
Harvey surveys the crowd, noting there's an eclectic mix of patrons, where only half seem to fit in with the air of class that permeates the place. They range from middle aged men in suits, to girls younger than Mike and women his age. There's a group of guys, probably in their early twenties, doing shots at the end of the bar, behaving like they're at a frat party.
"I can't believe I let you bring me here," he says, with a modicum of distaste.
Mike checks his phone distractedly before he says, "And what would you have been doing instead?"
"Preferably anything else."
"Drinking alone in your apartment is not a valid lifestyle choice," Mike chides.
"And getting high is?"
Mike narrows his eyes. "Alright, well played." He attention flicks back down to the phone in his hand for about the fifth time since they arrived and it irks Harvey more than it should.
"Do you have somewhere to be?"
Mike looks up sharply, clearing his throat. "No, just ah, checking my balance."
Harvey snatches the phone from his grasp, ignoring Mike's yelp of protest. His reply to a text is only half formed. Harvey notes with a sly grin that the text is from Rachel. His smile quickly dissipates when he reads the message from her.
We're here, is Harvey still with you?"
Mike at least has the decency to look guilty. Harvey pushes the phone into his hands, and he fumbles, nearly dropping it.
"You are not smooth enough to pull off a set up."
"I'm sorry, it wasn't my idea. Well, not completely."
Out the corner of his periphery, Harvey spots Rachel at the opposite end of the bar with a reluctant Donna in toe. She looks stunning in white, her hair practically flaming against her creamy skin. Harvey has to deliberately peel his eyes away from her.
He attempts to, and subsequently fails to curb his anger at Mike for the second time this week. "What do you think you're playing at?!"
Mike braves another swallow of his drink, not even bothering to hide his wince this time. "This is for your own good. The both of you."
"Did nothing I said the other day sink in?"
"All I took from that conversation is how miserable your life is without Donna. And it's not the first time I've noticed either," he adds.
Mike walks over and warmly greets Rachel and Donna. Rachel is almost as bad as this covert thing as Mike, because Donna seems to have already caught onto their half-assed hair-brained scheme. She's aware of his presence, he knows that much. But like at work, she makes it a point to keep her eyes from straying anywhere in his direction. He's about ready to bear the chill outside because it can't be anywhere as cold as it is in here.
Mike slinks away after the glare she shoots him and she turns to Rachel, prepared to strangle her well-intentioned, if not thoughtless friend. She says through gritted teeth, "Rach, if I didn't love you, I might kill you."
The mischievous smirk she wore only a moment ago slips from her features and gives way to a sad, pensive expression. "Donna, I don't know why you're not talking to me, but I can see that you're hurting from…whatever this is."
Donna's frustration dissipates as her shoulders slump. "I can't even process it in my own head enough to talk about it with anyone."
Rachel nods in understanding. "You're sleeping together," she says, phrasing it as a statement, a fact. Donna gives Rachel a watery smile, grateful when her friend doesn't press any further. Rachel leans closer, her words quiet and tentative, "He's still staring at you from across the bar."
Donna knows this already, can feel his eyes penetrating against her skin. She ignores it. "I need a drink."
Rachel sighs, throwing a glance behind Donna at Harvey. "What are you having? I'm buying."
"Anything but scotch."
Rachel hums knowingly. "Two gin and tonics," she politely tells the bartender. He makes their drinks promptly, keeping one eye on the task at hand and the other on Rachel. He's glaringly obvious but Rachel seems oblivious. Donna thinks it might have something to do with a certain almost-lawyer.
"So tell me, whose brilliant plan was this?" Donna asks, taking a long gulp of her gin and tonic. "Mike's?"
"I believe his exact words were 'I'm tired of watching mom and dad fighting'."
They share a quiet laugh, because it's just such a typical Mike Ross reaction. Donna wants to be angry with him for his interference, Rachel's too, but decides it might be liberating to not have to carry this all by herself anymore.
"You two are back on speaking terms then?"
Rachel bites her lip and looks down purposefully at her drink, an action intended to hide her growing blush.
"We're friends, I guess. Or something resembling that."
That dance will never get any easier.
"You should go find him," Donna says, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to be alone with a group of strangers, or at least somebody who doesn't know her so well.
Rachel looks torn. "I don't want to leave you alone."
"I'm a big girl, Rach. Go."
"I won't be far if you need me."
Donna swallows what's left of her gin and tonic immediately orders a second.
His opportunity to finally get her alone is thwarted the second Rachel leaves and some twenty five year old kid saddles up next to Donna with the sad intent to try and flirt with her. Harvey's gaze is steely, though he's relieved when Donna appears to be humouring the guy. She's smiling tightly at him, and her amusement is half hearted when he attempts to make her laugh.
Harvey almost feels sorry for the kid until he leans in close and tries to grope Donna's ass. Donna extracts his fingers so quickly that it looks like she might even break them, but Harvey's rage is already simmering that he doesn't see this, can only see the face of some punk that he would really like to punch in the jaw.
He's standing at her side before he even realises his feet are moving and he's pushing the guy hard enough that he staggers backwards, knocking several glasses along the bar.
"Harvey, what the hell?!"
He's got the kid by the collar and his fist is already raised. "Dude, I didn't know she had a boyfriend," he protests, clearly terrified.
"She doesn't," Donna says bitingly, spinning on her heel and weaving through the crowd.
Harvey releases the guy, embarrassed. "Sorry, kid," Harvey apologises, though he's clearly too stunned to respond.
He catches a glimpse of her pale dress through the mass of people, heading towards the bathrooms. He snags her elbow and has her pressed against the wall in the narrow corridor of the bar.
"You're kidding me with this, right?" she says, jerking her arm away. Donna tries to sidestep him but his hands are braced against the wall on either side of her face. He's boxed her in and she looks appropriately pissed off by it.
He hasn't been this close to her since he humiliated himself on the steps of her apartment building. And she hasn't allowed him anywhere near her all week. He takes a moment to let his eyes glide over her, taking in her tousled hair, her pursed pink lips, the way her dress seems to tug at her and hang off her all at once. He watches her flush all the way down to her toes.
Out the corner of his mouth he says, "You look nice."
She snorts in typical Donna fashion. "I look fantastic."
He smirks, knowing it will rile her. "I wasn't sure if I was allowed to say that."
"Say anything you want, Harvey," she says scathingly.
He leans in further to her, aligning their hips, invading what little personal space she has left.
"How about, I'm fucking tired of this."
She sinks further into the wall, bracing her hands up against it. "You think I'm not tired? It's exhausting trying to hate you," she tells him, crumpling a little when she says it.
Harvey's hands move from the wall and to her bare shoulders, tracing her collar bone, ghosting over her freckles. He replaces them with his lips, surprised when she lets him. Her skin tastes sweet, and just as familiar. It hasn't even reached two weeks since the last time kissed her, but it feels longer since he'd gotten used being able to do it freely.
"I've missed you," he states.
Remarkably, she kisses him first, her mouth hot and aggressive. There's a clash of tongues and teeth as her hands seek out the skin beneath his shirt and he lowers his hand to the underside of her thigh, raising it high enough that he can push further against her, closer still.
He's only semi-conscious of the fact that they are in public, but that knowledge seems to flee from his mind when her hand slips into his pants and cups him over his briefs. Harvey gives as good as he gets, his hand teasing circles on her inner thigh, just shy of where she needs him to be.
"God, I've wanted to do that all week," he mutters against her mouth.
Apparently it's the wrong thing to say because she's tearing her lips away and shoving him until there's enough space between him that she can walk away.
"Donna?"
"I'm not – I don't, forgive you."
"For Christ's sake Donna! I fucked up. I made a mistake, why does something that meant nothing to me matter so much to you?"
"You really don't get it do you?" she says, basically screaming in his face.
"Will you stop?!" he fires back.
"Do you remember what you said to me? When I told you that Scottie loved you?"
"Donna, this isn't even about her anymore."
"Do you remember what you said?" He doesn't respond, just waits for her to carry on. "You said you couldn't be with her because she made you make a fool out of her fiancé."
"What does that have to do with –?"
"You made a fool out of me!"
Her words silence anything he is about to say, all he can do is stare at her limply. His hands rise of their own accord, cradling her face in his palms.
"I know you well enough to know your ethics on cheating. And I know that we weren't together, but you did it to me," she says shakily. Her mouth twitches when her eyes flick upwards, locking with his. "I always thought I'd mean more."
He swallows thickly. He hates when he does this to her, when she has to wage a war to keep from crying in front of him. "In that same conversation, you told me I never fight for anything. Well, guess what, this time it is about you, okay? We were together. And I'm fighting – finally."
The moment is rudely interrupted by Mike and Rachel, both wearing anxious looks on their faces. It belatedly occurs to him just how bad this looks – he's smothered against Donna, who's on the verge of tears, while he himself is barely holding it together.
"Donna, I think it's time to go," Rachel says, the protective streak in her voice unmistakable.
Donna breaks away from the wall at the moment that Mike tugs on Harvey's arm. "Come on man."
Harvey casts an incredulous glance at Mike and Rachel – the two people who orchestrated this entire disaster of a night. And it's all over their faces; guilt, remorse and pity.
"Congratulations, you two," he says, not even bothering to contain the spite that seeps into his voice. Later he'll feel bad for this too, but for now he'll return home, content to feel numb again.