"Hey," Harvey greets as he balances the phone between his shoulder and his cheek, reaching for a bottle of shampoo and setting it in his basket.
"Hey, are you still at the drugstore?" Donna asks.
"Yep, what do you need?"
"Can you buy me some tampons?"
Harvey almost drops his phone, which is ridiculous. He is forty-five years old, considers himself very sure of his masculinity, and yet he reddens from neck to hairline at the mention of tampons.
"What?"
"I'm almost out of tampons, can you get me some?" she repeats, probably thinking he didn't hear her. She sounds a little distracted, like she's doing something else, which is probably why she didn't hear the mild panic in his voice.
He swallows, trying to be discrete, "I don't know anything about them."
"That's fine, I'll just tell you which to get."
"I'll probably get the wrong ones. Maybe we should just stop here again on our way home tomorrow," he tries, though it's admittedly weak.
"Harvey," Donna calls out, probably catching him in his bullshit.
"Donna," he half-whines childishly.
"Do I need to remind you that I've gotten you condoms hundreds of times? And that's even before we got together?" she sasses him and he instantly feels like a jerk. Donna doesn't often rub his mistakes in his face, but she knows just when that tactic will be effective.
He scratches his cheek resignedly. "That's fair. Okay. I'm going over to the section." She doesn't reply, but he knows she's smirking self-satisfiedly.
"Okay," he exhales as he looks through the boxes and packages in front of him. He has no idea what any of these are, what the difference between them is, and he frankly doesn't want to know. He subtly takes a look around to check if he's alone.
"Okay. Tampons come in tiny boxes, do you see them?"
He scans the shelves in front of him until he spots a cluster of purple and pink boxes. "Yeah, I see them."
"Alright. I usually buy Tampax."
He is momentarily confused, until he sees one of the boxes has "Tampax" written on it. Okay, that's the brand.
"Uhm, okay, but they have lots of those."
"Which ones?"
"They-" Harvey stops talking as someone passes behind him, waits for them to switch aisles, "They have the pearl one, and something called radiant, and a sports one."
Donna pauses. "Damn, I don't know which one I usually buy."
"Can't you check the box you already have?" he suggests, getting slightly more agitated.
"No, I threw it away and I can't tell from the tampons alone. Read me the descriptions."
Frustration takes a hold of him and Harvey groans. "Donna."
"Jesus, Harvey, stop being such a child about this! If it's such a huge hit to your masculinity, I'll just buy it myself." Donna sounds genuinely pissed off and, while he loves teasing her, he is prepared to admit he's being unreasonable here.
"Alright, alright, I'm sorry," he concedes, "Hang on."
He picks up each box and reads the specifications aloud to Donna. He only has one brother, has never had close girl friends. He's always lived in a man's world; beer, whiskey, smoky bars with jazz playing through the night. While his father was unusually sensitive compared to most of the other guys he knew, Gordon was still a man of his time. Harvey never had any contact with the daily life of being a woman.
Once he stops pushing against it, he realizes he actually enjoys learning this about Donna. He wants to know everything there is to know about her, as intimately as she knows herself. He realizes, then and there, that he does want to know what kind of tampon she buys, what medicine she takes if she gets menstrual cramps or a headache.
He knows about the more mundane stuff, her favorite dishes and beverages, what movies she likes, but anyone can know that.
He wants to be to her what she is to him, wants to be able to read and anticipate everything. He wants to be able to give her anything she needs or wants, from diamond rings to tampons.
And, while the boyish side of him still cringes, mortified, Harvey swallows the fragile part of his ego that led him to act out initially and even asks a few questions to better understand what this confusing and previously uncharted world of feminine products has to offer.
"Wow, I can't believe you love me so much you even got over your paralyzing fear of tampons," she teases as he makes his way to the cashier. It's true, but he won't give her the satisfaction.
"Oh no, this is going into the ledger so I can cash in later."
"Sweetheart, if there even is a ledger, you have a lot of red in yours. Don't expect to be able to cash in any time soon."
He smirks. Again, she's right, but he chooses to plead the fifth here.
.
.
.
"Does it hurt?" he asks and pokes her lower belly. She's reading her book in bed and he's sprawled, head resting on her stomach.
"I don't PMS and I hardly have cramps, so no. Sometimes there's a bit of pressure or discomfort but nothing much," Donna answers patiently, flipping another page of her book.
"You don't PMS?"
"Nope."
"Damn. I've been trying to catch you on a mood swing all these years, I thought knowing your cycle could come in handy."
At this, Donna bursts into laughter. Harvey's head shakes with the movement.
"You're ridiculous, did you know that?"
"Well, it would have been a good strategy if you did get mood swings," he defends, though it's mostly for laughs.
"Except I don't."
"Except you don't."
"It seems like I'm always outsmarting you, huh?" she teases and he can hear her smirk.
"Don't be cocky, Donna, it doesn't suit you."
She chuckles and slaps his chest. "Shut up."
"So how do you know when you're gonna get your period?"
"I don't, not for sure, but my cycle's pretty regular. I usually get it on the same day every month."
"Can you give me a heads up next time?"
Donna snorts. "Why?"
"Just wanna be prepared."
"What is this sudden fascination with my period?" she closes her book and looks down at him.
"Well, it's part of you. And I wanna get to know you better." He smiles sweetly up at her, part humoring her, part meaning it.
"You know me plenty," she narrows her eyes.
"I didn't know this."
"Okay. Here's another thing you don't know about my period. It makes me really horny."
Harvey stills completely, absorbing this new piece of information. "Really?"
"Oh yeah," she nods solemnly.
"Your period can do that?"
"It's a hormone bomb. It can do all sorts of things."
"Is this a ruse to get me more into period sex?"
Donna laughs. "I'd hope I don't need a ruse to get you into any kind of sex with me."
"You're right, you don't," he grins up at her and lays a noisy kiss on her belly.
"But yeah, think of it as an incentive," she winks.
"Oh, I will."