Hello everyone, remember me and this fic. It's been way too long, but here's another part. The story is slowly moving forward, but the trash is real and the rating is shifting a little I guess... So this has some parts that made me wonder if it wasn't TOO much, but it's kinda needed and i tried to keep it them as much as i could. I do hope you enjoy this chapter (i'm off to FINALLY read post 816 fics myself) CAN YOU BELIEVE THEY ARE CANON? CAUSE I FREAKING CANT.
Enjoy, and please let me know what you thought in a review. x - M
MISTLETOE MYSTERY
PART III
Holding his breath, Marcus quickly turns around to hide behind the wall. Head leaning against the wooden framing; he lets the words he overheard his father and brother share sink in, repeating them and their meaning again and again.
Any other time he'd have given his brother shit about it, and he's pretty sure he'll end up doing so anyway, but at this moment all he can do is feel for Harvey. His mind already running a hundred miles an hour trying to come up with a plan their father would certainly disapprove off.
He would have gotten away with it too if it wasn't for his phone vibrating and the screen lighting up the otherwise dark hallway that the two other men spot him from the kitchen.
It's Gordon who calls for his presence, and he's ready to be reprimanded for things he didn't do yet, but it's the one look on his brother's face that has him guarantee he won't tell the redhead before that.
Gordon nods then, first at Harvey, Marcus next. He takes one sip from his scotch and places the glass back down. "I'm going to head upstairs, don't make it too late," he announces to his two boys.
Marcus bobs his head up and down, rounds the kitchen island to take his father's place. Hand already having found the abandoned glass before he sits down, he offers a silent toast to his brother.
Harvey matches the gesture with equal sombreness, downing the alcohol in one go, needing it to deliver the next words out loud. "Thank you, Marcus," he says, pushing himself up from the barstool, he watches Marcus nod and then turns around to head upstairs.
The steps heavy and slow, taking the time to climb the two flights of stairs to the attic to clear his mind and face reality again. As quietly as possible he opens up the door to his old bedroom, his gaze automatically falling on the bed in the middle of the room. He watches her sleep then, for a second, until he sighs again.
Closing the door behind him, he walks around the room in complete darkness. Pushing the duvet to the side, he gets into the bed on the other side of the pillow mountain she built them. Eyes on the ceiling, it takes him another hour of listening to her breathing to fall asleep.
Marcus' grin only shows when he hears no more movement on the stairs. He looks down at his drink, swivels the alcohol around in the glass and toasts again. This time to himself, cause he might have promised not to tell the redhead, but they did always say all roads lead to Rome and if he has to, he is willing to draw them a map.
Friday, November 30th 2018
He rolls around, slowly and quietly. Besides the mattress squeaking underneath him, just like the night before, her rhythmic breathing is the only sound in the room.
The light cascading through the blind as the sun rises what woke him up this morning, it's her on the other side of the pillow wall next to him that kept him put. At first, he tried to fall back asleep, but his mind had other intentions.
The conversation with his father, and ultimately the woman right beside him, is what keeps him awake. He's certain of the words spoken last night, and he knows he shouldn't, but he allows himself just one morning and one morning alone of pretending there's no pretence at all.
It's then that he finally allows his gaze to drop from the ceiling to his left, his head hitting his pillow again. He can't see her but knowing she's there is enough. The smile tugging on his lips is torture in the worst possible way, body winning it over his mind.
He swallows then, closing his eyes and he rolls on his back once more. He is forcing his brain, his truths, to take over again.
She bites down on her lip, her hands resting flat on the mattress on either side of her body as she tries to regulate her breathing. Frozen, that's the word she'd describe her current state, eyes having been fixated on the clock on the opposing wall for the better part of ten minutes.
She's counted every second of it.
Hearing him stir, her own body freezes in that exact moment, and she can't understand why it's happening. What's different from waking up next to him the last time, or the time before that.
Nothing happened.
There's a bunch of pillows in between them, a joke on her part the first time it happened, and he kept it up ever since.
They're still best friends.
Expect they're dating now.
But it's fake. That's what Donna tells herself. Her eyes close the second she hears him exhale. She doesn't want to think about or read into the particular sound of this everyday thing, but her mind would have done it if it wasn't for the door of his room swinging open in that exact moment, followed by the lights being turned on and Marcus's voice echoing through the room.
"Rise and shine, lovebirds."
She flinches, and her first instinct is to pull the cover over her head and hide away, something she can't do because it would give away she'd been awake all along.
So she moves, ready to jump into a seated position and act taken aback. It just fails when her movement comes at the same time as Harvey throwing a pillow across the room, hitting her head instead of his brother's in the process.
"Aaauw. What the hell -"
It's her outburst mixed with Marcus's laugh that has him looking up and down the room, an apology on the tip of his tongue, it's one look in her direction that tells him she knows and it's okay. It's also the smile starting to form on her face that he knows what's next.
He just about dives away from a pillow meeting his face, knees hitting the ground he grabs another and he finally, just like the redhead, successfully manages to toss it to his brother. Hers hitting the 21-year-old on his head, his hitting his brother in the groin.
It's the groan on Marcus' part and her laugh that follows, that makes him forget about the evening before. His hands soon find the next pillow, and this one too is thrown in his brother's direction.
The older duo eventually wins the battle when Marcus rushes out of the room again, pulling the door shut behind him and only announcing that Gordon is making them pancakes from the other side of the door.
She hears him exhale deeply again this time, the sound the complete opposite of what she heard before and her
stomach twists at that realisation. She can't help but look at her best friend though, her gaze locking with his and her arm with the pillow still in hand quietly drops to the limited space in between them.
It's Harvey who breaks the silence then, a smile spread across his face as he watches her. "Good morning."
"Hey." Her voice so soft it surprises herself, averting her gaze she scrapes her throat once. Uses a free hand to brush her unruly bed hair out of her face and she repeats the one worded greeting louder and more confident this time. "Hey."
He swallows thickly at the first word out of her mouth, it briefly making him forget this is all just a show except it's just them, and it's a rule. So is it? Just a show. He realises it is when he hears her repeat the word, his smile faltering in the process. Something he covers up by pushing himself to stand, he reaches for a stray pillow and drops it on top of the duvet again.
"I'll uhm…" he pauses, looking down at his feet for a second before he makes his way to his weekend bag on the chair. "The bathroom is yours," he tells her next, pulling out a clean shirt. "I'll see you downstairs in a minute."
"Yeah" the second half of her agreement dying on the tip of her tongue as she catches her breath instead. Slowly she drops back down from her knees to a seated position, and she watches Harvey gather his clothes as she gathers herself.
.
Marcus reaches for another pancake from the stack on the middle of the table, his gaze, however, moving from left to right to the two people sitting across the table from him. The distance between them now bigger than last night, the conversation tense and the playful laughter he heard earlier that morning replaced by silence. The youngest man internally groans at the awkwardness of the situation and the stupidity of the deal his brother and the redhead made
Its when the latter asks Harvey what they're doing today and the casual way in which Harvey answers, being the perfect boyfriend in words, except being anything but that in reality that the youngest Specter man can't stop himself from speaking up anymore.
"Look at that, Harvey actually sounding like a real-life boyfriend."
"Shut up," Harvey growls in a low response at the same time Gordon merely uses his youngest son's name as a warning, that however not enough to stop the twenty-one-year-old.
"You're not fooling anyone, you know."
Harvey's eyes flicker up in a beat, gaze sternly falling on his brother. The words could mean more than one thing, and at first, he feared Marcus breaking the promise he made the night before, but it's when the latter signals both the redhead and himself with his knife that he knows he's referring to their fake-dating deal. "Right," he mutters, not believing a word of it and he rolls his eyes then, slow enough for Marcus to see how unbothered he is about it all.
"Right," Marcus parrots in the same tone, a chuckle following and he demonstratively looks from left to right. "Cause over the last day I've seen the two of you touch, exactly…" He pauses for dramatic effect, flashing a smile at the redhead at that exact moment because he knows that if she hadn't been the topic of conversations, she would have appreciated his timing. "Ooh, that's right. Not at all, but uhm good luck making the people you live with believe you two are dating."
The knife she was holding almost drops from her grasp, she turns to look at Harvey upon hearing those words, but he doesn't turn to look at her at all. Instead, his brows knit together as he bobs his head to the side to challenge Marcus' words.
"You don't know shit," Harvey fires back.
"Harvey," Gordon warns his oldest son now.
Dropping his cutlery on his empty plate and pushing himself to stand. His hand deliberately landing on Donna's shoulder and he has to credit her acting skills for the fact that she doesn't even flinch, but he doesn't wait for her to look up at him either. "Come on; let's go."
.
It's near midnight when she follows Harvey up the stairs to his bedroom. Marcus's comment from that morning still on her mind and her stomach is still twisted because of it. She tried so hard to ignore it, to ignore what the younger man said and believe that he indeed didn't know shit as Harvey put it. And as much fun, as she had with her best friend today, she couldn't help but focus on the accusation, so much so that she actually ended up counting.
Three.
Three times, that's how often or rather how little, they'd touched throughout the day. The first time when he placed his hand on her shoulder, but she knows it was just to prove Marcus wrong and that's why it doesn't count which leaves them at two.
Two touches in over fourteen hours. One of them being a shoulder bump, a motion as quickly ended as it came and just done to get her attention. The other touch when he held the door open for her, and she tried to take the door from him, thus making it accidental.
She takes the last step, rocking back and forth on her spot as he opens the door in front of her. The quick math question done in her head, she can only come to one conclusion. "What if Marcus is right?"
"What?" he asks confused, stepping aside and turning to look at the redhead as she follows him inside.
She pulls on the sleeve of her cardigan, turns on her spot and takes a deep breath before speaking up again. Now blaming her worries on her theatre major. "What if we can't make them believe we're together?"
"Because we don't touch?"
She nods and shrugs once. The way she watches him give the door a toss, making her agree verbally as well. "We don't," she says, it's the hard truth. "We spent the entire day walking across town, and we bumped shoulders once, that's not –"
He swallows once, knows she's right, but she also asked him not to pretend when it's just the two of them. That also is an excuse cause it's just not who they are or how he can be with her just being this. "It's a rule," he tells her nevertheless.
She laughs then and shakes her head. She should have known he would turn it around like this while she means them in general. "That's bull shit," she counters in a beat. "Even before all this. We don't touch; we just don't –"
"We could." He takes two steps across the room, his arm already extending in her direction. "How hard can it be," his sentence ending with a laugh when his hand bumps against the back of her hand instead of holding it.
She knew it was coming but her breath hitches all the same, and it was just a brush of hands. She scoffs then, hiding the unease she can't place, and she looks away from him. "See, Marcus is right," she motions to the room next door with her hand. "We can't even hold hands."
The second time he reaches for her is just as predictable as the first, but she's still unprepared for what it does to her. Feeling his hand fall around hers for real this time, it's not just her breath hitching it's as if time stops. Her stomach flips and her gaze instantly drops to the space in between them. His grasp on her firm, holding her hand and her fingers fold around his thumb on their own volition. It's still not the most logical way to hold each other's hand, but it oddly fits and feels right. That alone setting every nerve ending of her fingertips on flame.
He holds his breath at his actions, half expecting her to pull away. He only exhales again when she doesn't, and he slowly turns to look at her when she doesn't speak either. He watches her watch their hands, a sight he never imagined to witness and now one he'll silently treasure. Smiling softly he lets his gaze travel over her face down to their linked hands and then back up at the room around them. Spotting the standing mirror in the corner of the room he takes a step towards it and slowly tugs on her hand and wordlessly asking her to follow him.
Her stomach flips once more, and the movement breaks her out of her daze. She looks at Harvey now, her head tilting to the side. Her way of asking him what he's doing but she follows him regardless of the answer that's about to come.
He smiles at her in return, bobs his head in a plea for her to follow him. Hand in hand he guides her across the room, coming to a halt just in front of the mirror. "See," he speaks, at last, looking at the redhead through the reflection. "We can hold hands." These words pronounced with an extra squeeze. "We just need a little practice."
"Practice?" she repeats cautiously.
"Someone once told me acting isn't just going on stage without reading the script first."
She chuckles at him recalling her own words, it isn't exactly what she said all those years back, but she gets what's he's trying to tell her. She nods once and looks up, at last, letting her gaze meet his in the mirror.
"So," he mumbles now, swaying their hands a bit he watches the motion in the reflective surface. "Is this how we hold hands or?"
She thinks over his question for a few seconds, eventually moving her hand. She doesn't let go but turns her hand just so that instead of holding onto his thumb she's holding his hand, palms now touching.
Harvey watches her expression change, the small frown forming between her brows as she moves her hand in his. Trying to determine an answer to his question but when she doesn't verbally confirm this to be it, he slowly moves his pinky finger. Pushing her fingers to lose their grip on his hand, he doesn't let go but lets his slightly parted fingers slide over hers as he rotates his hand.
Spread wide, his fingertips rest against hers, and then he waits. The motion is allowing Donna to follow his lead but also giving her the chance to guide him.
She swallows thickly; her gaze remains fixated on their hands as she can't bring herself to look up at him. Her fingers however automatically complete his motion until her digits slip between his, slowly curling down making her hold his hand.
It's only then that he continues the movement, bringing his fingers down to the back of her hand. The gesture finished with one squeeze.
His firm grasp almost feels familiar already. The thought alone makes Donna hyper-aware of the moment and when she notices his thumb moving back and forth over hers in a slow caress, Donna's heart skips another beat.
"Donna?"
"Huh," she mutters at the soft pronunciation of her name. She quickly shakes her head to clear her mind and remember what he was he asked her. "Like this," she answers quickly glancing down again at their hands in the mirror, squeezing his hand this time around. "Like this."
"Good," he nods, lips pressed together in a thin smile.
"Good," she parrots, nodding once in return before she turns to face the mirror again. Taking in the sight of them as a couple, fake, she quickly adds in her mind, because the pit in her stomach is reminding her of a feeling she thought she'd never find again.
He studies her face, notices by the look in her eyes that her mind drifts off once again and he wishes he had the guts to ask her what that's about. But his fear of hearing the answer he knows he'd get prevents him from doing so.
And thus he stays silent, holding her hand and basking at the moment that is so uncharacteristically them and yet feels like the most natural thing in the world.
It's a full two minutes later when he feels his fingers starting to tingle, and he coughs once. A subtle way to ask her what now, cause he may have been the one to suggest this move he but he has no clue how to deal with the repercussions.
She opens her eyes again, not even realising she had closed them or how long they have been standing there like this. Cheeks turning red she flashes him an apologetic smile, but her hand remains unmoved.
She can't place why she can't let go, all she knows is that she isn't willing to. Not yet. In fact, the fluttering feeling in her stomach makes her so curious she hears herself say the exact opposite of what she should do.
"Hug me."
His breathing falters momentarily. "What?"
She bites down on her lip, instantly regretting saying it but she finds herself asking again. "Is it okay if we hug?"
He laughs then, a nervous habit, one he regrets when he notices her looking down, and it makes him do the same. He didn't mean to laugh at her or make her feel that he was, so he does what she asks.
Turning on his spot and pulling her in, his left arm slipping over her shoulder until her frame is resting against his own. His nose buried in her auburn locks, the familiar scent of her vanilla shampoo overwhelming his senses and it's only then that he can tell her the only answer he feels is right for that question.
"Always."
She had been holding her breath ever since she blurted out the question, but when her forehead finds his shoulder, she inhales. Deeply, the first time because she physically has to, the second time because it's his scent she senses everywhere, captivating her in a way she didn't think was possible. But here she is, hugging her best friend for the very first time in her life. She's glad her hair and his sweater shield the way her eyes twinkle from him, and she bites her tongue to stop herself from smiling.
It's his heartbeat she hears and feels thumping against her skin, a rhythm she knew existed but never realised how in sync it was with her own. Her free arm moves around him them, finally doing what she asked him to do. Hand sliding over his shoulder blade until she grabs a handful of his shirt, holding onto him like he's holding onto her.
Just like the first time they held hands, their first hug isn't standard. It's not perfect, but Harvey thinks it's them. He closes his eyes and thinks about how they got themselves into this position, her hand still entangled with his own as proof, and he realises then that her question was just the next step of his own.
Practice.
His eyes open again and he does his best not to sigh, blinking twice he forces himself to focus on the purpose of this motion. The one they shared, are still sharing, just not smooth enough not to raise any suspicion.
"Is this how we hug?" He asks now as if he's a method actor and he's going over a script, rehearsing over and over, not to be the one to screw up.
And maybe he is, but most importantly he wants to respect her rules. Make sure she is okay with what they're doing, with the role he asked her to play.
His question gets her attention, and she roughly awakens from a dream that simply can't be. Because the facts don't add up, her feelings, however, a thought she doesn't dwell on.
She feels herself shaking her head, letting go of his hand at last. The cold air hitting her slightly clammy hand and she chuckles once, to lighten the mood, but it's the tension that pushes it out of her. "I…" she whispers then, not fully having found her voice yet.
He pulls back ever so slightly, just to be able to look at her but he isn't willing for her to look him in the eye. Afraid of what it might reveal. He swallows thickly, tells himself to get his grip together.
"Two arms," he fills in her lack of words, not because he knows that is what she was thinking but because it keeps him in control. Allowing him to dictate the future and minimising the chance for emotions he can't be feeling to take over.
Something he realises he's close to failing anyway when her now free hand slides over his side to his back as well, bringing them back to the limited distance between them of before, but this time it feels even closer. Just being wrapped inside her arms, as if she's holding her world. It's just the other way around; his world is holding onto him.
He exhales deeply, eyes falling shut before he recreates the movement. Folding his free arm around her, to prove to her, to Marcus, but mostly to himself that he can do this and that it's not a big deal.
Except it is, so he breaks the moment by tickling her sides. It was a way for them to part without the awkwardness returning, and her laugh in his shoulder does exactly that, it reminds him of this morning. The pillow fight they had and how easily they can slip from serious to playful.
And thus he finds himself wrapping his arms around her again, except this time it was unannounced and from behind. His chin resting in the crook of her next and her laughter subsided the second his tickles stop ad he doesn't let go.
She swallows, almost flinches at his embrace but she thinks she covered it well enough. She doesn't know how to respond, not right away and thus she lets it happen longer than she should. Her look eventually finding his in the mirror. Bobbing her head to the side, she asks him the silent question.
"Practice… uhm.. practice makes perfect."
It's the truth, but it's a bullshit excuse to hide behind. Yet the only one that can justify his spontaneous actions. He slowly releases the grip on her waist, his hands sliding to her hips and when he feels Donna tense again, he uses that as a way to draw her attention away from him. "I thought you were a theatre major," he continues. "Can't have you flinch in front of Mike or Rachel now can we."
She chuckles once, shakes her head and gives him a look that says I don't flinch.
He presents her his Cheshire Cat smile. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"No, I don't," her answer comes in a beat and with her elbow playfully hitting him in the ribs. A distraction as she watches her reflection upon taking in his words, her pale skin flushes. She moves her head forward, making her auburn locks the redness to cover her face, and she turns around then, still half in his embrace. Her palm now flat on his chest, she lifts herself on her toes. No clue what she's doing, bringing her lips to his ear but it has become a game, and she has to win. "Who's looking like a ghost now."
He is, he thinks. Frozen, he stands there in front of the mirror. His best friend inside his embrace and everything feels surreal. "You can't even see my face. How'd you know."
She laughs then, stepping back and breaking free from his grasp at last. "I'm Donna, I know."
"Not everything."
She raises an eyebrow and bobs her head to the side. "I beg to differ."
He rolls his eyes at her; he's always admired her gift how she could handle herself in any given situation and often bluff herself out of one. But the truth is she doesn't. "And how are you going to prove that."
She demonstratively brings her hand to her chin, pretending to think for a moment but then a wide grin appears on her face. "We'll need pictures of us. Together."
"What?"
"You heard me," she counters, reaching for her phone and sliding the lock screen to the left to open up the camera, instantly snapping a picture of him before he can protest.
He blinks twice at the bright flash that crossed the room, shakes his head as he watches her handle her phone. "What are you doing?"
"Making this my new background."
He laughs at first but then sees the picture she took of him. "Oh no." He steals the phone from her hand, doesn't delete the picture she took of him, but he does take a new selfie — one where he tries a sultry look.
She confiscates her phone back before he gets the chance to set his selfie as her background. Once glance at her phone has her snort, she instantly looks back up at him shaking her head. "You're an idiot; you know that right?" Taking one more look at her screen, she chuckles again. "What even is this look."
He does it again, the slightly broody biting down on his bottom lip - look. His expression is faltering once again when he watches her trying to stop herself from laughing. He scoffs then. "It's sexy."
"No, it's not."
"Yes, it is."
"Really," she challenges him, taking one step in his direction. "You think this looks sexy," she asks, now copying the exact expression he had on in the picture.
He reaches for his phone as quickly as possible, snapping a picture of her and he makes it his lock screen. "See," he counters now, holding up her phone for her to see. "Hot."
"That's smoking hot for you, Harvey," she counters, taking his still unlocked phone from his hand. She opens up his contacts and changes hers to her name with an added heart at the end. Proudly smiling, she hands it back over to him.
He's the one to shake his head now, but a yawn overtakes him. Sidestepping her, he places his phone on his nightstand, pulls his sweater and t-shirt over his head and pushes the duvet aside in search for his sleeping shirt.
Pulling the black piece of fabric from under his pillow, he holds it in his hand as he motions to her phone. "Are you gonna name me bae on that now?"
She snaps out of thoughts, uses her laughter as a distraction as she mirrors his motion and makes her way over to what's become her side of the bed. "If I did, it would be hard to recognise you," she teases, letting her right knee slide over the mattress to sit down on top of it.
"Hilarious," he mocks her, moving ahead to pull his sleeping shirt over his head.
"Wait," she blurts out before she can think twice, her words stopping him dead in his tracks and it's the one second she needs to snap a picture of him like that.
"Did - Did you just?" He asks even though he already knows the answer and he doesn't know whether to laugh or not, but he does. Shirt falling to the bed again, he motions for her to hand over her phone.
She shakes her head, merely pulls it out his reach. "You have no idea how often Rachel borrows my phone, so if we're gonna do this. I need some proof."
Unbelievable. He shakes his head, but he knew all along what his best friend could be like. He doesn't question her statement directly but decides to throw her off her game just as much. "Is that your subtle way of asking for a dick pic?"
She nearly chokes on air, her eyes flickering back up from her phone to meet his and the satisfying smirk plastered on his face makes her dramatically roll her eyes. "If you ever send me a dick pic, I will delete your number and pretend we've never met."
He fake pouts. "Not like I want any of your nudes either."
She prides herself on being more prepared for this statement than the one before, and even though her eyes snap back at him in the same way. This time around she manages to make it a more challenging look. As if she's questioning the legitimacy of his words.
"Well … I mean." He stumbles over his own words, swallowing thickly, he realises there's no way out of this one after his first reaction. "You know you're hot."
Her expression changes.
"If you weren't my best friend, you know."
She grins but doesn't feel like it, can't place why his argument affects her the way it does, but all she has to blame is herself for this line of questioning. So she brushes it off, a way to let him off the hook but more to diminish the meaning behind any reaction she might have had. "Chill, I'm just messing with you. Geez."
"Show me," he requests her phone with a flick of his wrist.
She merely holds it up for him to see instead of handing it over.
"For fuck's sake, what the hell is that," his objection not even fully pronounced she already pulls her phone back. "Delete it."
She brings her index finger to the bottom right corner but misses the trash can symbol on purpose. "Done."
He questions her actions with a mere look.
"What?" She bobs her head to the side to match his. "You don't trust that I really deleted it?"
"Do I look clueless to you?"
She smiles then, much to his annoyance and she adds a shrug on purpose because she knows it will tick him off even more.
"Donna." He sits down on his side of the bed now and holds his hand up once more.
"What?" She objects with words but gives in anyway. Handing her phone over to him again. "It is your favourite movie after all."
"It's not."
"It is."
"Not."
"As if."
He laughs then, his signature smirk spreading on his face as he looks at her. "Who's quoting it now," he counters, momentarily forgetting it will only prove her statement.
He changes his position, scooting down the duvet a little until his head rests against the headboard. One arm propped up under it, he takes a picture of himself then, bare chest in plain sight and all. "There," he tells her, turning her phone for her to see.
She turns around, leaning down on the mattress. Body has been thrown across the recreated pillow mountain, her elbows just an inch away from his side as she studies the picture.
His gaze falls on her, the pillow mountain and he can hear Marcus' mocking tone from earlier that day how they wouldn't be able to convince anyone. He reaches over with his right hand and tosses the first pillow he can get to the other side of the room. His hand is already moving in for the second one when she speaks.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting rid of the mountain."
"What," she whispers, rolling away when he pulls on the pillow below her frame. "Why."
"You said so yourself, Marcus is right. And if we want to convince the rest we can't have this here," he explains, dropping the second pillow to the floor.
She thinks about their list of rules, no sleepovers being one of them. But instead of bringing that up she asks why anyone would notice.
"I don't know," he admits, flinging the third and last pillow to the ground. "But they could," he reasons, a sudden yawn escaping him. His eyes close for a few seconds as he yawns again.
Ready to call it a night, he suddenly remembers why he'd gotten himself into this particular mess in the first place. A sigh escaping his lips, he does the exact opposite of what is wise. To him at least. "We still don't have a picture of us though."
"Uhm… yeah," she mumbles, inhaling louder than she wishes she did. Pushing herself up to sit, she brings her hands to the edge of her sweater. Scooping the knitted material in her hands until she also reaches the bottom of her t-shirts.
Her arms are already in an upward motion when he feels his dick twitch and realisation hits him them. This isn't normal. "Don-"
"Relax," she cuts him off before he can fully pronounce what she knows would be his objection. But if they're going to make others believe they're the together the evidence has to suggest exactly that. That's what she tells herself, that and that she's an actress. But when the two layers of clothing leave her small frame, the motion making her auburn locks fall back down her shoulders, it are his wide eyes staring up at her that cause a shiver to run down her spine.
She tells herself it's the cold, not him watching her half dressed. It's basically her in a bikini top, something he's seen plenty of times. It's not a big deal, except when she leans back in, closer this time as her side collides with his, she realises that it could be.
Her stomach is flipping in a way she's only felt once before in her life, a feeling she didn't expect to experience. Not with him, but it's happening, even in the most genuine interactions. Curiosity and the trip of this feeling making her move even closer, bra-clad chest pressed against his bare one, her head on his shoulder.
Every nerve ending in his limbs is on fire yet his body is frozen, unable to move as she presses herself against him. His heart beat faster, ticking until it's the only sound he can experience. That until he hears the smacking noise first before feeling it. Her warm lips pressed against his cheek.
He could die now, happily but he won't ever admit it.
His heaven like state is broken with a flash and then the sound of a shutter. Hadn't even realised she had taken her phone from his hand again, taking that picture of them together he reminded her off, and for the second time this day he has to remind himself of how it's all just an act.
At least to her.
His thoughts confirmed when she mumbles a tada and moves away as quickly as she came. He breathes out, long and slow. The action taking everything and it drains him, every overwhelming and unplaceable feeling escaping him. It all embodies in the yawn that leaves his lips. He reaches for the T-shirt again at last. Pulling it over his head, he keeps the sweatpants he'd changed into earlier on. All he can do is lift the sheets and slide under them, body glued to the mattress again like before.
She stares at the two pictures she has taken of them together. The first in the exact moment she pressed her lips against his cheek and the surprise is visible in his eyes. The second picture is out of focus, but it's the way his head and his gaze turn just towards her when she is about to pull back that sets the butterflies free yet again.
She only moves to dress when she hears him slide under the covers. Placing her phone next to her pillow, she quickly reaches for her Star Trek shirt and slips it on over her bra. Undoing the button on her jeans next, she moves the bare minimum to pull the thick fabric down her hips and eventually just kicks the garment to the floor.
It's only after turning the light on her bedside table off, that she slides under the covers herself. Back hitting the mattress, she changes position three times in twenty seconds, a yawn leaving her lips at last but sleep doesn't come easy.
Her body but mostly mind still on a high of their interactions from the last hour, the last minutes in particular. The silence between them is deafening but she can't bring herself to say anything — not even a good night.
When his breathing becomes more regular, she allows herself to close her eyes. Her sight changes but the fluttering feeling in her stomach stays, and for the first time in years, she wonders if it was him all along.
January 5th, 2015
"So I met Mike's roommate, Harvey, today."
Rachel looks up from her notes at Donna, she thinks for a moment. Wondering if they hadn't met before, she remembers wanting to introduce them just before the holidays, but her plan had fallen through when he'd hooked up with Dana, and she hadn't shown up at the bar. "You did?"
"Yeah," she answers, lifting the bottle of wine up from their coffee table. A silent question she only needs the nod from Rachel to pour both of them a glass. "He seems nice."
"That's one way to put it," she answers, there's a teasing tone palpable in her voice. She is friends with him, because of Mike and in some ways he reminds her of her roommate hence why she wanted them to meet, but she doesn't know him for him.
Donna's eyebrow raises, curiosity getting the better of her as she gives her friend a questioning look.
"You know he has a reputation," Rachel clarifies. "And I mean, yeah I've had a good time hanging out him with too, but I wouldn't exactly say he's the person to call when I need something or just to talk."
She hums then, in understanding but her lips press together in a thin line as she thinks back to her own experience. "I told him," she speaks then, shrugging once. "About you know, what I did before the break."
Rachel drops her book to the table now, a chuckle leaving her lips and she shifts over the couch to reach for her glass of wine. "How come?" She asks, having been sworn to secrecy herself.
"I don't know," the redhead counters in a beat, she doesn't. Circling the glass around in her hand she sighs. "I -" she pauses again, shaking her head as she thinks back to that afternoon. A laugh is rolling off of her tongue next. "He said it was him."
Rachel's mouth drops, and she shouldn't be surprised cause she knows what he's like. She does, however, know that it's not him. "Trust me," she speaks then. "Whoever you kissed that night, it wasn't Harvey."
She presses her lips together in a thin line, twisting her mouth a bit and she bobs her head up and down then. "I know."
Rachel double takes her friend, the tone of voice she just used, is surprising her a bit. She'd wanted to set them up herself, maybe, but she hadn't expected to hear a hint of disappointment from the redhead herself after just having met him. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah," she mumbles. "It's just, talking to him made me think about it again. That mistletoe mystery kiss. You know, on New Years I ran into an ex, and I shouldn't have, but everyone was, and the clock struck twelve and… well you know." She shrugs. "Thing is, I might remember everything from New Year's Eve, but it didn't feel the same at all."
She lets out another soft sigh, eyes opening again and she lets her head slowly turn to the right. Her gaze is falling on his now sleeping form and she can't help but wonder.
Except it can't be him.
Rachel so much as told her so.
Harvey even told her he made it up.
And yet, the way her stomach twisted and her heart skipped a beat more than once today has her confused. Why after her two latest boyfriends, and more importantly after all the moments shared with him before. Why is she now feeling something that reminds her so much of a feeling she'd been chasing for years?
She exhales once more, only turning her head again when the soft buzzing of her phone under her pillow calls for her attention.
She shuffled a little, hand blindly reaching under the soft fabric and she already has her screen lit up when she brings it to the front. A notification prominently displayed across her screen.
Your period is about to start in two days
She removes the notification, locks the screen and places it on the nightstand. She rolls her eyes then, her rationale taking over, it suddenly all making sense why she doubted things after her break up, being near him now.
It is just her hormones affecting her judgement.
And thus it means nothing.
.
Saturday, December 1st 2018
She takes a spoonful of cereals, slowly swallowing her breakfast she brings the piece of metal back to the ceramic bowl and thoughtlessly moves her spoon through the contents.
He chucks down the last piece of his toast, chewing quickly as he already brings his hot cup of coffee to his lips. It's then that he glances at his best friend, noticing her tired movements and the frown spread over her usually cheerful face. "You okay?"
"Huh?" She looks up at him, but an answer fails.
"You have barely touched your breakfast."
She rolls her eyes and gives him a pointed look. Doesn't need to look at his plate to know he already finished his breakfast. "Not all of us devour their food like animals."
He opens his mouth to comment, fire back on the commentary he hears more than once before how he doesn't take time to eat. Instead, he just bobs his head to the side, silently questioning her mood.
"I'm fine," she reasons, but she shifts over her barstool nonetheless. Her free arm wraps round her stomach as she winces at the uncomfortable muscle spasms. "Just a bit of cramp."
He nods then, her somewhat cryptic answer enough for him to understand what's going on. "Whenever you're ready."
She takes one last bite of her cereal, all that her body is allowing her to eat right now. "Just got to finish packing and we can head back."
"Do you want me to make you something for on the road?"
She turns to look up at Gordon, smiles politely but shakes her head. "No, I'm good thanks."
Gordon nods once, he looks at his oldest son then, but he too shakes his head and declines the offer.
"I could do with some," Marcus chimes in then, as the two best friends leave the kitchen to get ready for their trip back.
"You just had breakfast," Gordon objects, ignoring both Harvey and Donna's answers and making them a couple of sandwiches anyway.
"Not fair," the twenty-one-year old complains, leaning over the surface to steal the last piece of toast from his father's plate as compensation and demonstratively taking a bite out of it before his father can say anything.
He waits for the two college students to return downstairs, fully packed this time and ready to go back. It's his father who takes their stuff to the car as he leaves the three younger people to say goodbye, a hug shared with the redhead. A punch against his arm for his brother, he waves them goodbye as they join Gordon at the sedan.
It's when the car turns to the right at the end of the street and disappears from his peripheral vision that he finally does what he's been dying to do since the moment he learned about the arrangement his brother got himself into.
Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he scrolls through his contacts and searches for the one other person he texts besides the redhead when he needs his brother. Mike.
You won't believe who showed up with his redheaded girlfriend for the holiday
..
Harvey opens the back door of his father's car, taking her backpack from her hand before she can get out. He gets an amused but curious look in return as she climbs out of the car, he doesn't comment but merely gives it back to her.
He closes the door then, turning to face his father who has also gotten out of the car. He gives his old man a soft smile and a nod. It's followed by a roll of his eyes when Gordon calls his name and spreads his arms, but he complies willingly.
Patting his father on his shoulder twice, he ends the embrace with a soft sigh. "Goodbye, dad."
"Take care of yourself, Harvey," Gordon answers first before he glances at the redhead. "Keep an eye on him, Red."
She laughs, gives her best friend another amused look at his loud sigh before she faces his father again. "Always," she tells Gordon sincerely. "It was nice seeing you and Marcus again, thanks for having me this weekend."
"No problem, kiddo. You're the daughter I never had. Or should I say daughter-in-law now?" Gordon grins at the two young adults, when both fail to answer that he steps forward and wraps his arms around the redhead as a goodbye as well.
"Stay safe," he tells her next, "I do expect an invite to that play you told me all about this weekend and…" he pauses, reaching for the paper bag from the passenger seat. "For the way back."
"Dad."
"You didn't have to," Donna answers instantly but accepts the bag anyway when he holds it in front of her.
"I know, but it's a long trip."
"Thank you."
"Speaking of," Harvey interrupts them then, he glances at Donna for a moment. "We should go."
She averts her gaze to the clock above the entrance, checks the time and nods then. "We should," she agrees, swinging her backpack over her shoulder, she holds the sandwiches in hand and waves at his father one more time before following her best friend through the train station to the carriage with their seats.
.
He finishes the last bite of his ham sandwich, pulls the napkin from the table in between them and wipes his mouth and hands. Crumbling it up he wants to do the same to the brown paper bag when he notices she placed her sandwich back inside.
Harvey turns to look at her then, half of her sandwich in hand. She's barely eaten anything of it, and then he notices it again. Her eyes close and her face wincing in pain, the motion followed by an arm wrapping around her stomach. Just like that morning.
"You okay?"
She looks up at him, fakes a smile and when she says she is fine, again, she stumbles over the words and winces once more.
"Donna."
She wants to roll her eyes but barely manages a somewhat annoyed sigh. Hand pressing harder onto her lower stomach as she pushes herself to stand. "It's just that time of the month okay, no big deal."
He opens his mouth and closes it again, momentarily lost for words. He watches her pace a bit in the four-seat area they're sitting in. "You're in pain."
"No shit Sherlock."
"Don," he stops the pronunciation of her name halfway, tilts his head to the side and looks at her. "I just… I mean…" He pauses, doesn't know what to say. She's his best friend, but he's never seen her like this before. "Is there anything I can do?"
She shakes her head in annoyance, can't believe she's arguing about her period in the middle of the train. "Unless you can turn yourself into a hot bath or a chocolate bar, then no. So please just ... shut it," she fires back making her way down the aisle of the train carriage.
He turns in his seat and looks over his shoulder in her direction. Watches her make her way to the end of the cabin and closing the door behind her. He sighs then, for the umpteenth time that day. Just as he's about to turn around again an older white man speaks to him.
"Your girlfriend seems nice."
He doesn't miss the condescending tone the words got delivered with, and he has to do his utmost best not to get up and give this man a piece of his mind. Or hands for that matter.
"She is," he answers, using words instead. Just like she would do. "And if it's all the same to you, shut it. Please."
He turns back to his seat without another word or look, can't be bothered by any more unsolicited comments and he sure as hell can't risk the chance of her overhearing any of it having happened already.
She holds onto the door separating one cabin from the next, her breath stuck in her throat, and she regrets it now. How she spoke to him, how she ran off in the middle of a train ride, in the wrong direction to even pretend she was going to the bathroom.
She glances at the four-seat down the aisle again, notices him talking to the guy pushing the beverage trolley. She waits another minute, to gather herself and when the trolley guy reaches the end of the cabin, she moves again.
A nod at the younger man who just crossed her path, she glares at the older man she knows said something to Harvey and then she turns to look at him. Her best friend, staring out of the window as the landscape slowly changes.
She scrapes her throat, it barely makes a noise but it's still enough to get his attention, and when she sits down on her seat she sees the chocolate bar on the side table. The sight alone enough to make her regret her previous behaviour even more than she already did.
She takes a deep breath before she speaks. "I'm sorry."
His lips twitch into a smile ever so slightly, but he isn't willing to go easy on her. Keeping his gaze away from hers he just asks. "For what?"
Donna has to stop herself from rolling her eyes, but her answer tells him she wanted to do that anyway. "Don't push it."
She watches him turn to look at her now, the soft smile on his face telling her enough already but she still feels like shit for the way she acted. Leaning forward, she reaches for the chocolate bar and opens it up. Breaking it into smaller pieces, she slides the bar over the table in his direction — a silent peace offer.
When he tries to grab another small block of chocolate, she pats his hand away. "The rest is mine," she reasons when he gives her a confused look. She takes another piece of chocolate herself. "Your species doesn't have to go through this hell every month."
He nods once, and even though there's nothing more, he can do about the situation he finds himself saying it anyway. "Sorry I couldn't turn myself into a hot bath."
She laughs loudly. "God, I can't wait to be home and take a long bath." The pause shared after her sentence is made up of mirrored smiles, a hint of tension that lingers towards awkwardness. Mostly because they're both silent."Sorry," she mumbles then, offering him his own chocolate again. "This must be weird for you."
It is, and at the same time it isn't, but he doesn't know which answer is appropriate or what answer she is looking for. So he asks."Why?"
She shrugs, reaches for her bottle of water. Using that as a distraction to deliver her next words. "Me talking about the monthly party in my pants.."
He can't help but chuckle at her phrasing, knew very well this was what she meant and yet she manages to surprise him. Like always, and the only way to turn it around is to do the same to her. "Well so that you know, with me as your boyfriend you're gonna have a party in your pants more often than that."
She chuckles again, shakes her head and looks down. "Thank you."
He tilts his head to the side, studies her. "For what?"
"For understanding," she answers. "For not freaking out. I don't know..."
"Just because you're my best friend doesn't mean I haven't noticed you're a woman, okay." He reasons, and his words make her glance up at him again. In her eyes, he notices something he can't exactly place, but he classifies it as him saying something weird. And thus he adds on to that recipe, making sure that look is exactly that, based on his unusual reply. "I paid attention in sex ed, thank you very much."
"Okay," the word dragged out, and it gets mixed with a somewhat nervous chuckle. "This is officially the weirdest conversation we've ever had, and yet it's oddly reassuring."
"What about that time I told you about Louis -"
"Nope." She shakes her head. "Not even close."
"Or when we got high and -"
"Captain Kirk is Macbeth, and I stand by it."
He rolls his eyes now, hasn't it in himself to tell her she didn't come to that conclusion just because and that the show is filled with references. But he won't give her the satisfaction of him knowing things about the greatest writer of all times as she refers to him on a near-daily basis.
"Fine," Harvey continues, trying to think of something else. "What about that time you showed your -"
"Okay, alright," she cuts him off before he can say more. The fact that they experienced that enough, it doesn't need to be rehashed in the middle of a train. "Still doesn't beat this one though."
He purses his lips and pretends to think. "I could come up with something," he reasons when he can't find another example at the moment.
"I bet you could."
"I will," he reassures her.
She shakes her head, already has to hold her laugh and the two words she utters next are words she'll regret the next morning."Try me."
"Next stop, Grand Central Terminal."
He rolls his shoulders, stuffs his bottle of coke back into his bag and then checks his watch. The four-hour train trip over in under five minutes, the holiday weekend in a day and then their act would start.
For real.
Them as a couple.
.
She turns around in front of her apartment door, her eyes slowly meeting his as he waits on the landing. "Thank you, Harvey."
He raises his shoulders, drops them again and smiles in her direction. "You know Rachel would kill me if she learned I let my girlfriend alone for the holidays."
It's the second time he says it, and it still makes her chuckle. But it also reminds her of the act they have to play, how it had been fun and games up until now but as of tomorrow. It would be their reality.
"Do you remember everything we discussed?"
He nods. "November 24th was the night you finally couldn't resist my good looks anymore; how could I forget." He grins proudly when she rolls her eyes. "You got enough proof?"
She is the one to nod then, reaching for her phone from the pocket of her jacket. She pushes the home button and holds it up.
He stares at a black screen. "Your battery died."
She turns the phone around to check, shrugs once and puts it back inside her coat. "Well, you know the picture we took."
He does, and he swallows thickly, shuffling on his spot to forget about that moment and what it did to him and him alone.
"So," she mumbles then, reaching for her keys and filling her hands and arms with any item she can find. Never, ever, has she questioned the way they say goodbye and today she's experiencing exactly that, and thus she eliminates any way for there to be physical contact between them. "It's been fun, but I have a bath with my name written on it waiting for me."
The foot that nervously scraped over the hardwood floor comes to a halt, and his head bobs up again. "Right," he answers, realising this is her way of ending their conversation, their weekend and saying goodbye. "I'll see you tomorrow."
She bobs her head up and down in agreement. Smiles one more time before she turns around to open her door. Getting inside without a verbal goodbye, when she glances over her shoulder he's gone.
The redhead kicks the door closed behind her, carrying her bag through the living room to her bedroom to toss it on her bed. The first thing she does is search for her charger and connecting it to her phone.
Still fully clothed, coat and all, she makes her way to the bathroom. Pouring some soap into the tub, she opens the tab to the bath, adjusts the temperature and presses the plug into the drain of the bath. Slowly letting it roll as she continues with her tasks at hand.
Undressing and unpacking are next, the content of her bag being sorted into three separate piles. She gets a towel and clean underwear from her drawer, her pyjamas pulled from under her pillow she brings the three pieces of fabric to the bathroom and checks on the water.
The bath now for a quarter filled, she lights one of the candles Rachel had stacked in the room somewhere, the sweet scent of vanilla soon filling the room, she gets a wine glass, a bottle of red and another bar of chocolate on a tray. Her favourite Shakespeare play placed beside it, she carries the tray back to the bathroom and places it on the small table next to the tub.
She is adjusting the tab one last time, adding a bit more cold water to the mix. She starts with removing her makeup and brushing her ginger manes. Her pants and shirt are removed next when she remembers she hasn't been able to check her phone in practically a day.
Running through the apartment in her underwear, she pulls her now almost fully charged iPhone from the cord. Not turning it on just yet, she places it on the tray as well.
Locking the door, she stares at the small room filled with everything she was looking forward to the entire day: a hot bath, chocolate, alcohol and a good book.
She leans into the tub and shower combo and pulls her bottle of shaving cream and a razor from the rack. Putting it aside next to the sink, she goes to the toilet. Kicking off her panties towards the clothing bin, she decides to shave now and keeping the water clean for her to soak in later.
Her bra ends up in the bin ten minutes later, she flushes the toilet and washes her hands. Observes her reflection, turning to each side twice as if she's a model. And she can't help but think about his nudes comment.
But as quickly as she thought came she pushes it away. Filling her glass with wine, she takes one large sip and fills the glass off again before finally getting into the bath she'd longed for the entire day.
The warm water covering every inch of her long limbs, a tired moan rolls off of her tongue, and her eyes close instantly when her head rests against the edge of the tub.
She stays like that for a full five minutes, the sip of wine she took early now making her crave for more, and she shifts through the water into a more seated position. Her hand soon reconnected with her glass of wine; she quietly sips half of it. Alternating every two sips with a small piece of chocolate.
Only when her glass is refilled again does she reach for her phone, turning it on at last. She was planning on texting her roommate, but the first thing she sees flashing up on her screen is that the brunette already texted her. In all caps. Multiple times.
OH MY GOD
DONNA ROBERTA PAULSEN
YOU AND HARVEY?
WHAT THE - WE NEED TO TALK. THE SECOND I GET HOME TOMORROW NEED ALL THE DETAILS.
AND I MEAN ALL OF THEM
"Fuck, fuck fuck."
It's a miracle she didn't drop her phone into the bath right there and then. With her hands are shaking, her breath is faltering and her heartbeat pounding a million miles an hour.
"Fuck," she mutters again, letting her eyes close and her head fall back against the edge of the tub. She likes to pretend this never happened, that the texts aren't real. That she never agreed to this plan, but when she pulls one eyelid open and pressed on her home button once more, she is faced by the five messages and a missed call again.
She contemplated her options, fleeing the country the first thing on her mind but also the one thing she can't possibly do. This was part of the plan she agreed to, except reality had caught up with the timeline she had drawn out in her mind.
The most logical thing would be to call her roommate right now and have it over with. To make it easier on herself to get through this conversation without being face to face, she, however, ends up calling him, and with a shaking hand, she switches to speakerphone, placing the object down and pouring herself another generous glass of wine.
He pulls out his phone from the pocket of his pants, lips automatically curling up into a smile when he sees her name. More so after she repeatedly told him on the train that she wanted a quiet night alone. "Miss me already?" he teases her the second he answers her call. "I thought you, and I quote," the sentence delivered with air quotes even though she can't see it. "Did not want to be disturbed while you enjoyed a long and relaxing hot bath."
She can't help but grin, his voice having a calming effect on her even now. And when her eyes close she can just picture him doing the air quote, a motion she knows he's doing even though she can't see him and for a moment she forgets why she called, merely countering his statement. "I did say that and who says I'm not doing so right now?"
"If that's the case why aren't we FaceTiming then?" He grins too proudly at his comeback, bringing the cold bottle of beer he'd been holding back to his lips.
"I don't have time for your perverted fantasies right now, mister," she cuts him off before he can say anything else. "We have an emergency."
"Wh-" he pulls the bottle away from his mouth, having nearly choked on a sip. He places it down and eyes the little plastic bag Mike had left hanging around on the table.
"Rachel knows."
"What," he answers again, brows knitting together as he tries to make sense of what she is telling him. "How?" He asks unsure if he even wants to know the answer, he leans forward and steals one of the joints.
His question is followed by silence because she doesn't know until a couple of seconds later they both break the silence by uttering the same name. "Marcus."
"I'm going to kill him," she answers all too quickly.
"That's my brother you're talking about," he counters, it's not him defending the younger man but more to tease her. He lights it then, taking a long drag.
She opens her mouth, briefly taken aback by his answer until she realises he isn't actually mad. "That's right; the honour is yours then."
He laughs, bobs his head up and down as he shifts over the new couch in the empty living room. "Is it such a bad thing though?" he counters, "they had to find out anyway. At least now we don't have to tell them."
"True," she admits in a sigh, her rebuttal covered before she can even start the sentence.
"Then what's the emergency?"
She thinks about it for a moment, the texts coming to mind again and she knows what she was like when Rachel and Mike first got together. She's going to need alcohol to bring this up, shifting in the bath, she reaches for her glass of wine with her free hand, turning her phone around in the other hand, she turns it onto speaker and places it back down on the side table.
"Because of the questions, Rachel is going to ask."
He rolls his eyes at her dramatic sigh but also knows the only way to get to the bottom of the problem is to ask. "Which are?"
"Well for starters," she takes another quick sip of her wine. "The most important emotional one."
He blows out a bit of smoke, purses his lips and wonders if he's supposed to know what the hell that means. It hits him then, and the words leave his mouth in a beat. "If I love you?"
"No," she answers in a beat, confusion washing over her face and she can just about hold her laugh when she realises that that is exactly what they are trying to make her believe. "Yeah, no…" she mumbles again cause that still wasn't the question she meant.
"Then what?"
She lets out a deep breath, eyes closing as she wills herself to say it while cursing herself for teasing Rachel with this. "How long-"
"We've been-"
"You. Are." She still has her eyes closed even after pronouncing the words, and she's never needed the alcohol more than in this exact moment.
"Oh." It's all he can say when he realises what she meant with the phrasing.
"Yeah."
He doesn't know if it's the weed, the beer or the absurdity of it all, but he laughs.
And it somehow calms her.
She chuckles then too, shakes her head and places the glass, she'd been painstakingly holding onto, back on the side table. Feeling once more how laughter, how joking around, is making this so much easier. And thus she does. "And don't tell me it's over six inches, that retweet was bullshit and we both know it."
He has to think about her comment for a moment and then remembers what he did in a drunken mood over a year ago. "Do you realise how much trouble you caused me over that reply of yours," he fires back about her calling him a liar. "But fine," his next reply comes with a loud exhale. "Five point nine and circumcised."
She laughs softly at the awkwardness of the conversation. She might have asked, but she wasn't certain he would actually answer. "Right," she mutters then, "any other identifying details I should know?"
"Not that I can think of."
"Does it curve to a particular side?" She continues to tease him.
He rolls his eyes but looks down at his groin all the same. "Are you sure you don't want a dick pic," he counters, bringing back their conversation from the night before.
"I… am."
Words barely pronounced when her phone vibrates on the side table, the notification sound that comes along with it tells her that it's a message from him. The topic of their current conversation making her cautious to check and curious all the same, even though she knows he'd never. Warningly pronouncing his name she reaches for her phone again, swiping to unlock the message he sent she laughs loudly when she sees the picture he sent.
One of a dicks sports store.
"Idiot," she counters, answering over the speakers but sending a picture of a nude eyeshadow pallet in return. Using that as a distraction as gives him some information in return. "34D."
They're the same but he still rolls his eyes at the picture she sent him in return, and he almost misses the number she tells him. "What?"
"It's my bra size," she explains. "Figured I owed you some intel too."
He grins, brings the joins back to his mouth hand takes another drag. "So are you a natural redhead or what?"
"I'm hanging up."
"Are you?"
She shakes her head, can't believe she hasn't hung up yet and finds herself answering anyway. "I am.. not that there's anything to see and I am actually hanging up now."
"Wait."
She does, again.
"What was our first time like?"
"What?" she whispers then, his question fully in line with everything discussed up until this point and yet it takes her off guard.
"I'm sure Rachel will ask you, and you know what Mike's like," he reasons. "So…You know, to get our story straight.."
"Ooh," she whispers, sliding down the bathtub a little further. "I guess it uhm was the night we got together."
He hums and thinks back to the cover story they decided on. November 24th, we weekend Rachel and Mike were away from campus. "At the party?"
"We did not have sex in a public bathroom, Harvey." She can hear him laugh on the other end of the line. "Or in the car on the way back."
"Shame."
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "You're impossible. You know that right."
He smirks at the way she calls him out. "Fine, indulge me. How did it happen?"
She bites down on her lip, eyes closing as she thinks about it. The story so far included the weekend they were left alone by their respective roommates and they had decided on having been at a party, possibly to take her mind off of the failed date she'd just been on, so that's where she starts."I guess we were out."
"Dancing?" he asks.
"You hate dancing."
"Maybe I was trying to impress you."
Her eyes close and she smiles to herself. "I guess it worked."
"Obviously."
"Thanks to the alcohol," she adds just to put a dent in his ego.
"Hey," he objects.
"Ooh come on," she continues. "I think we'd have to have been at least slightly drunk to end up grinding each other on the dance floor, don't you?"
He nearly drops the can opener he'd been using on another bottle of beer at her choice of words. "Grinding huh?"
She sighs with a hint of dramatic flair. "Ooh, so we were ballroom dancing now?"
"Grinding it is," he agrees. Tossing the opener back on the table, he leans against the backrest of the couch and starts his second beer. "Guess I couldn't help myself seeing you in that tight short dress."
He has never said anything but she remembers his face months ago, and she knows exactly which dress he's referring to. "The black one?"
He can't help but lick his lips, the sight of her in that never forgotten he can't agree because she never wore that for him. "Green looks better on you."
She blushes slightly and takes a mental note to buy herself a new green dress. "Okay, so I was dancing in a green dress, and I lured you on the dance floor with me."
"Short green dress," he corrects with a hum.
She repeats the three words and continues, letting her mind drift off and come up with a story fort hem to share. "At first we joke around a bit, going along with the music and eventually not even that. Just swirling around until I end up with my back against your chest." She grins to herself at the image she sketches in her mind. "You bring my left arm up and around your neck and then you trail your hand back down my side. I laugh, and you call me baby."
He stares into the distance, one eye closing he repeats the description she gave him again in his mind. It somehow being too specific, too odd and it reminds him of something. "What?"
She laughs. "It's from Dirty dancing."
"I've never -"
"Stop right there," she cuts him off before he can wiggle his way into a lie. Her hand even raised in the air; she reaches for her glass again. "I know for a fact you've seen it."
"Fine," he reluctantly gives in, but he also knows he has seen the movie in particular with her. Thinking about that night, the scene she was referencing comes to mind, and he decides to use her own tactics against her. "When my hand grazes your side boob, you shudder against me, and you whisper my name."
He can practically see her shake her head, but it's the soft chuckle on her side and the way he can hear her move around in the bath that he continues. Adding details tot heir story. "It's when the music slows down that you start to move your hips along with the rhythm, so I join you, holding you close at your waist and fuck it's so hot."
"And hard," she adds, snickering a little and she can practically hear him roll his eyes, but she figures it to be possible.
"Really?"
"Yeah, in that position you're describing. I can feel it."
He swallows thickly, he can feel it too. "You said we were grinding but fine," he reminds her but gives in at last. "I might have a small tent in my pants."
"Small?" She counters, remembering what he told her before. She shifts in her tub, bringing her knees up and she has to bite down on her lip.
He glances to the left, momentarily wondering if she can see him and if that's why she's calling him out. He scoots down a little over the couch, getting into a slightly more comfortable position but when that doesn't work, he gets up. Lifting his drink in his hand, he makes his way over to his bedroom. "Unless you want this story to end in a public bathroom anyway I'm not sporting a full erection on the dance floor."
She laughs once, her eyes closing at the images her visually oriented mind creates. "Okay. Okay."
"You're just as turned on as I am though."
His huskier than usual voice makes her take a deep breath that rushes all the way down her frame, she crosses her legs and curses the fact that she has to fight his words becoming the truth. "I am?" She asks him, partially teasing and questioning his statement where he gave in rather quickly, on the other hand, she's curious to know how he'd know if she were.
"Yeah, the lack of bra combined with how tight that dress is is kinda giving it away."
Her lips part slowly and her gaze drops to her chest, it now moving up and down quicker than before and she uses her free hand to bring more of the white foam up to cover her breasts.
He hears her inhale again and smirks, decides to add more fuel to the fire. "And when I turn you around, your frame crashing against mine once more. I can feel it too."
She tells herself the warmth of her bath is what causes her cheeks to turn bright red, but she knows better, she also knows he'll know if she ends this all right now, so she breaks the silence at last. "Okay." It's pronounced slower and hoarser than she intended to and she quickly speaks again in hopes to cover that. "That's when you kissed me."
He knew it was coming, and yet it surprises him all the same, the feeling it creates in the pit of his stomach he's fought years to ignore and he can't help but think back to that one night all those years ago. "I kissed you first?" He repeats softly, "I think it was the other way around."
He hears her laugh and he just knows she's shaking her head. Her next comment about how the alcohol must have clouded his memory stings more than he's willing to admit. "You kissed me," he hears her say again, and he nods to himself. He is shifting over the duvet until he sits up straight against his headboard.
"And you kissed me back."
"I did," she whispers slowly.
"Don.."
"That's how you say my name after we part, we smile, and that's …" she pauses for a moment, thinking over the next part of their story. "That's when you say something else."
"What?"
"That we should move this to my room."
"Let's get out of here."
It was her saying it, but he doesn't correct her anymore. Knows there's no point, she doesn't remember it, and more importantly, she doesn't feel it. This conversation is all just part of the act; he asked the theatre major to play. So he does too, plays along.
"Did we?" He asks then. "Uhm.. move it to your room."
"Yes," she answers in a beat; it was the given they started this entire conversation with. "We had a hard time getting there though."
"Why?"
"Because you couldn't keep your hands off of me."
Her words would be the truth if he ever got the chance again, but he can't let her put the fictional blame on solely him. "That's because you kept kissing me, and teasing me." He pauses for a moment. "Driving me insane."
"That's why the second we're inside you have me planned on the dresser against the wall."
He can't help but picture the place she's describing, the painting falling clattering against the red painted wall and the other contents falling to the floor in his mind. "Kinky."
"You can't help yourself."
"Ooh, I think the way you wrap your legs around me and moan my name is giving away you enjoy it thoroughly."
"Well, I'm about to get thoroughly fucked so yes."
Her response has him nearly choke on his salvia, and he has to cough a few times for him to find his voice again.
"You okay?"
"Yeah," he croaks out, coughing one last time before he comes up with an excuse. The joint he'd stolen from Mike, already finished so it's a lie, but he almost wishes it wasn't
"You really should stop doing that shit."
It's not the first time she tells him that, but given the situation, he's gotten himself into it's the first time he agrees. "Well, I guess I would be willing to give it up if that's what makes my girlfriend happy."
"It is."
"Fine," he agrees to stop with something he never really started, not like Mike and Tanner, but hearing it would make her happy is that extra incentive to let it go altogether. "So," he mumbles then, letting his fingers impatiently tap against his knee as he stares into the distance. Moving from one room to another still not having done anything to reduce how worked up he is. "Is that the story or do you need more details."
She takes a deep breath and bites down on her tongue as she shakes her head. A gesture he can't see but one for herself to tell her this is where the conversation needs to end. "No," she answers then. "I think I'll be able to finish –"
"What," he interrupts her sentence, her words taking him by surprise and exciting him at the same time. "Are you –"
"No," she cuts him off, unable to hold back a laugh at the thought alone but she has to throw his question right back at him. "Are you?"
She might have said no but the thought alone of her doing that makes his dick twitch anyway, his pants now feeling even tighter than before. He adjusts one leg but answers truthfully. "Nope."
"Okay," she quickly continues, "Well what I wanted to say is that I'll come – "
"Are you doing this on purpose?" he throws back at the exact right moment.
"Stop it."
"What?"
"You know what."
He chuckles to himself, slowly shakes his head at the absurdity of the conversation they just held. "Well," he breathes then, shifting over his bed once more. "I'll trust you'll give this story a happy ending."
It's Donna who laughs aloud now, her head thrown back in genuine laughter. "I'm not a masseuse, Harvey."
"Doesn't matter."
"You're an idiot."
He ends the call right after, a heavy breath escaping his lips. The last thing she told him the most innocent of all and yet it's the one that ignites a warmth in his chest that spreads down to the not so small tent in his pants he'd been ignoring throughout the phone call.
He tosses his phone on the duvet and lets his gaze drop to the point where his jeans have become uncomfortably tight. "Fuck."
He stares at his groin, wills his mind to think of anything to calm it down: the law, an exam, his roommates. But the knowledge of her having been in the bath while on the phone with him gets the better of him every single time, that combined with the images his joke created. Her finishing herself off thinking about their fictional first time, it's when he thinks about her long fingers slipping between her legs yet again that he undoes his own pants and slides his hands down his boxers.
.
Sunday, December 2nd 2018
She pulls on the zipper of her training jacket, rocks back and forth on her feet. Stretching on her place as she closes the door behind her. Deciding to go on a morning run to clear her mind before Rachel returns later that day, she moves down the stairs as quickly as possible. Not even glancing up like she usually does, she really hopes to escape him. For the time being at least, she needs to figure out what the hell last night was on her own but she runs into him before getting the chance to do so.
Taking two steps back after the collision, her head tilting up to look at the other person. Her eyes widen when she sees it's him and her cheeks flush. She sees the same confused and then shocked expression wash over his face, and she has no clue what to say or what to do.
Her eyes still trained on his, for once she doesn't want to be able to read him like a book. To know if he did what he said he didn't do. His face is red, and he's out of breath, clearly just having come back from a run himself but that's also all his expression tells her.
A somewhat relieved sigh, mixed with a smile leaves her lips until it hits her. He usually isn't the one to read another person, but he has his days. Most often with her and right now she can only hope that today isn't that day. That he doesn't see that she did.
Cause she did.
She figures it best to break the silence first. To have the upper hand, to be in control. So she shifts again, pulls on the edge of her sleeves as she musters up a smile, a greeting leaving her lips next.
"Hey."
"Hey."
that's it for now, we'll eventually reach christmas hehe. let me know what you think.