A/N: This was loosely inspired by a scene from Gossip Girl between Lily and Rufus. Thank you to Isa for the prompt 3
"Oh, shhhhhit," Donna mutters suddenly, grabbing Harvey's shoulders and all but shoving him in front of her. He's eyeing her with wide eyes, clearly surprised by her outburst, as she looks over his shoulder across the bar.
"What's wrong?" he asks hurriedly.
"Ugh, I just saw a guy I know and I don't want him to see me," she explains distractedly, eyes still glued on Joshua, following his moves. He doesn't seem to have seen her but she doesn't want to take any chances.
"Why not? Who is he?" Harvey frowns and tries to take a look at the guy but she holds his jaw in place.
"He's a friend of a friend, we met at her birthday party and ended up hooking up. He wasn't very good but he kept texting me to meet again. Took me ages to brush him off."
"Wait, a guy you once slept with is here?"
"Yeah, why?" she finally looks at Harvey, who seems somehow bothered by the whole situation.
"Nothing, just… Huh, what are the odds," he shrugs.
"Well," Donna tips her head to the side, "This is a pretty popular bar and I haven't exactly been celibate all these years, so I'd say the odds aren't as long as you think."
"Really?" he draws back to throw her a look.
"Harvey," she grins in disbelief, frowning amusedly at him, "I didn't peg you for the kind of guy to be surprised that a woman has an active sex life."
"I'm not," he answers defensively, "I just didn't think it'd be that easy to run into a guy you've slept with."
"Are you jealous?" she narrows her eyes playfully.
"No, just wondering how prone we are to running into another one," he purses his lips.
Donna rolls her eyes, "Shut up, it's not like that either."
"How many?" Harvey asks suddenly.
"How many what?"
"How many people have you slept with?" he lifts a daring eyebrow at her.
"I don't have that number off the top of my head," she scoffs at him.
"Okay, but would you be able to list them?" he asks and there's a mischievous glint in his eyes, the glint he gets when he's about to tickle her or chase her around the room to carry her to bed, the glint he gets when he's challenging her and daring her to try to resist him.
She usually doesn't, but she loves taking his bait.
"Of course," she levels his stare, "Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?"
"If what you think I'm thinking is that we're gonna swap lists when we get home, then yes, I am," Harvey mutters into her ear as his arm wraps around her waist and brings her closer and she just laughs against his jaw, forever in awe of the ridiculousness of this man.
.
.
.
"Okay, ready?" Donna asks, a notepad and pen in her hands as she watches Harvey expectantly.
"Ready," he smirks at her, "One, two, three, go."
They leave their respective ends of the couch and meet in the middle, notepads joining so they can compare their lists. They spend a moment in silence, both chuckling as they have to turn the pages on each notepad, mutually acknowledging each other's abundant dalliances. It never bothered her that Harvey's slept with a lot of women, because she knows he's careful and responsible and would never put his health and safety, or theirs, in jeopardy. Besides, he's charming and gorgeous and hot as hell, who wouldn't want to sleep with him? That's never been a problem because at the end of the day she still got him back, still got all the parts of him the parade of women who visited his bed were never offered.
The silence stretches on as they continue to read. Donna numbered hers, Harvey didn't, which is why she's still going through his pages when he turns to her, eyes bulging and voice high.
"Donna?" his eyes widen even more, "How come your list is longer than mine?"
She almost chokes.
Donna has never subscribed to the sexist idea that women shouldn't enjoy sex and actively look for it. She has never, ever felt self-conscious about a hookup or the amount of people she's been with. She's always done what she felt like, when she felt like it, and done so responsibly and freely, and so her - admittedly longer than your average lady's - black book was never a bother.
But Harvey has slept with half of Manhattan. He's practically a manwhore. And Donna doesn't want to slut-shame him or herself or anyone who has sex with a lot of people, but his observation and the slight tone of terror in his voice send a spark of cold dread down her spine.
She does a double take of the lists, her own eyes widening as well. She reads through her inventory, making sure she didn't add any names by mistake, then moves to his, hurriedly running the tip of her index finger down the names as she counts them.
Oh God. He's right. Her list has almost ten more names than his.
Donna is a little floored by this realization, leaning back on the couch. Harvey continues looking at her with wide eyes, waiting for her reaction with a slack jaw, but she can barely pay him any mind. She doesn't think any less of herself, this doesn't define her in any way, but… wow, maybe she'd partied more than she'd realized.
She leans forward again, eyes roaming Harvey's list almost absent-mindedly as her brain works to process this new reality where Harvey has been with less people than her.
And then something clicks.
She frowns, leans even closer to the list and reads it again.
"Hang on."
"What?" he asks, turning his own attention to the notepad.
"You forgot to add Clarissa," Donna says as she scours the names again to be sure.
"Who's Clarissa?" he frowns.
"That brunette you made me book that rooftop bar for," she turns to him, urging him to remember.
"The one with the colorful lights?"
Donna nods.
"Right. Clarissa," Harvey nods as well, seemingly recovering the memory. He shrugs nonchalantly and scribbles her name on the page.
This prompts Donna to take a closer look at his index. Harvey may be careful and respectful when it matters, but everybody knows he can also be a jerk, going through women like they're cigarettes, hardly ever bothering to get to know them.
"You also forgot Melanie, that temp from the DA's office," she points out.
He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. "Right."
"And what about that one with the curly red hair you met at that bar we went to after one of my plays?" she turns to him, eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"Right, there's that one," he trails off. "I don't remember her name."
"Harvey, did you only add the girls whose names you remember?" she asks disbelievingly.
"Well, I mean…" he trails off, disconcerted, and Donna erupts into laughter.
"Harvey!" she mock-complains, "That's why your list is shorter than mine. It's missing half the names!" She laughs again, half in relief, half in amusement at his lack of reaction.
"Come on, not half the names," he protests lamely.
"Well, surely more than," she leans forward again, "'Hot chick from the baseball game' and 'Marcus' friend'".
He tries to argue but she shoots him a look, and just from her little interrogation a minute ago he knows she's right and it's not even worth arguing.
"Okay, fine, my list is longer than yours," he rolls his eyes.
"Don't act like you're not relieved. You know you're way too easy", she teases, leaning closer to kiss his jaw in an attempt to make sure he knows she doesn't fault him for it.
"I'm easy?" he smirks at her, hand snaking around her waist. "Let's not forget I didn't even have to say anything to get you into bed with me."
"Well, that's only because all we did for thirteen years was talk," she rolls her own eyes but goes willingly when he brings her in.
"You know what? Fuck our lists. The only list I care about is the list of people we sleep with from now on," he murmurs as he kisses her neck and her cheek noisily.
"And mine only has one name on it," he finally murmurs before he finds her lips.
He's right. Donna doesn't care about how many people she's slept with, or he's slept with. She only cares about the fact that from now on, they will only sleep with each other.