think I once tweeted this, but yeah since I'm kinda doing a back up of fics on AO3 too, I thought why not post it as a fic here too. So I guess here it is (again?)
She has a day off.
It's not the first time this has happened with her auditions back in the day, but she always used to come in and fix a thing or two for him anyway. This is, however, the first time since they've made the move to Pearson Hardman, but she doesn't have an audition. Not this time. It's just a day off, for her.
It's announced a week upfront and Harvey acknowledges it with a nod but nothing more. She mentions it again a day before and his reaction is more present now. Still not really with words but there's a moment where his face freezes and there's a hint of something that becomes visible in his eyes. She notices the look and thinks she can place it, but instead of talking about it, she teases him - asking if he'll manage without her.
Harvey says he'll be fine.
She makes sure he knows she's fully expecting Jessica to call her by noon.
He laughs at that, loudly. Head threw back in a way she hasn't seen since before the other time and the memory tugs on her heartstrings, even more so when a realisation hits her.
She'll miss him.
She hasn't even left yet, but she knows deep down that that's the feeling she'll experience tomorrow. Not staring at his face for a full eight hours, hearing his voice. Donna tells herself to get a grip, every weekend is like that and yet this is completely different.
He breaks the silence by promising he won't call her, or have anyone else disturb her.
She presses her lips into a thin smile. It's a silent thank you, but her mind says 'please do it anyway'.
She shakes her head at her own thought, willing them away. They don't so instead, she turns on her spot and makes her way to exit his small office. She stalls near the door opening, hand resting against the cold glass as she looks at him over her shoulder. "Don't miss me."
It is three little words, meant as a joke.
He knows that, but it fuels that hidden sensation in the pit of his stomach; a thought that's been brewing for a week now. He will.
He doesn't tell her that, no he could never tell her that. Instead, shakes his head and motions for her to go already with a flick of his wrist.
Harvey's gaze doesn't leave her frame until she disappears from his peripheral vision altogether, it's only then that he exhales and slumps back in his deskchair.
He barely sleeps that night and he hates himself for it.
The next day he makes the mistake of stalling at her empty cubicle and he should know better when he calls her name not once but twice over the intercom and he hasn't even had his second cup of coffee for the day yet. He spends the rest of the day with his nose either buried in paperwork, trying (and succeeding) to annoy Louis or (unsuccessfully) sucking up to Jessica until the managing partner asks him if he's solely there because Donna is out for the day. He rolls his eyes at the mere suggestion, but he leaves for home earlier than he's done since the first day he started out at the DA's office anyway.
He comes home to an empty apartment. That in itself is nothing out of the ordinary, but at least his regular working days weren't spent alone. Years from now, when Jessica tells him to find an associate he will make a whole spiel about always working alone, but today he felt fucking lonely. So he nurses the sensation he isn't willing to classify a feeling by ordering takeout from that shitty Thai place Donna introduced him to about a month ago. As he waits for the delivery, he pours himself a scotch and he finds himself pulling out his phone. She's on his speed dial and he's this close to pressing the button. He doesn't, but his thumb hovers there for a hot second anyway until he catches a flickering red light from the corner of his eye.
His answering machine.
He drops his cell phone on the couch and gets up, eyes the object and frowns. He'd forgotten he even had a home phone, so when he presses the message button he expects it to be a message from some salesperson, but it is her.
It's Donna.
Her message is short and quick. Just letting him know she hopes he managed fine without her today.
Harvey chuckles, in a way he did, and yet he didn't. He thinks it's just like her to call his home phone, of course, she would know he has one and the number to it at that. He gives in then, picking up the horn and he dials back.
It's the first time they call one another after work.
She doesn't say her name, doesn't even say hello. No instead, she answers with a simple "missed me?"
Yes.
It's a thought but it will be years before it will roll off of his tongue. Instead, he shakes his head and grins before he decides to ask how she even knew this number in the first place. He hears her laugh now, hears her remind him of her name. There was no particular reason for him to dial her back, no news to share, her simple message not even a true invitation for him to do so and yet they talk for hours, catching up on everything and nothing as if it's been way more than a mere twenty-four hours since they've last seen one another.
And this first-time after-hours call becomes a new thing too, a ritual if you will. It isn't often, but it's always from his home phone to hers. He sometimes imagines her twirling the cord with her finger, but he's pretty sure she's got wireless just like him. The picture his mind draws up makes him smile nonetheless.
It's a couple of years later when he calls, once, late at night, alcohol-infused and the operator tells him the number is out of service. It's probably for the best as he downs his third tumbler of scotch, but his stomach feels heavy all the same. He chooses not to think about why that is and it takes him another three days to bring it up to her.
When he does, after she calls him out on his grumpy mood, she simply chuckles. It's both a painful and exhilarating sound. It's followed by a simple explanation of her changing providers and giving up the landline, how she must have forgotten to tell him. It's a logical explanation and yet. the realisation that she forgot to tell him stings even more than the dull voice three nights ago telling him the number he was trying to call was out of service.
He draws his lips together and nods.
Donna catches the way his jaw sets, how the glint in his eyes disappears and makes place for something else. Disappointment maybe? She draws in a breath and shakes her head, pushing the thought away. Using a joke once more to lighten the mood. "You do know you have my cell phone number too right?"
"Right," he nods, pretending it's no big deal. It isn't, and shouldn't be.
He calls her later that week anyway. "Just making sure this works too."
It's an excuse but they both gladly take it, and it's a ritual they'll hold up for years to come