First of all, thank you so much to everyone for the support on this fic, it means the world. Updating has taken forever and I'm shifting from my original plan of where to cut off chapters.. same with this one, and I'll probably continue it by posting whenever I feel like it's sort of enough. So the parts will not be as long as they usually are (at least this time) but I do hope this is worth the wait. Also, there's an M rated part in here, so consider yourself warned.
I hope you enjoy the update, and please let me know what you think.
X - M
MISTLETOE MYSTERY
CHAPTER VI
Donna swings her legs over the edge of the bed. Leaning forward to lift her shirt from the ground, she gets up at last, and it's only then that she turns back to face him. "We uhm… should get up."
"Yeah," he agrees, getting into motion himself too.
She collects another piece of clothing, moving to the door "I'm gonna take a shower if that's okay."
"Of course," he says, stretching his arms and yawning once. He walks through his room, eventually coming to a halt right behind Donna.
She flashes him a smile. "I'll uhm… let you take care of that," she nods and glances down for a second before reaching for the doorknob. "Think of uhm… I don't know. Tomatoes."
"You're ridiculous." He sidesteps her, reaching for the door and opening it for her as he tells her where the shower is. She smiles again, tells him she knows, and he says he'll use the bathroom after her.
"Or you could save us all some time and get in there together?" Tanner counters, ticking on an imaginary clock on his wrist. "Some of us have places to be, you know."
"Uhm …"
Harvey feels not only Tanner's but now also Mike's gaze drift over to them. It doesn't take Albert Einstein to realise his roommates are wondering where their hesitation comes from and thus if everything is okay between the two of them. He swallows, inhales profoundly, and he merely looks at the redhead awaiting her decision
Feeling driven into a corner once more, the only thing she can think of is not blowing their cover. And like on stage, the show must always go on. Always.
"Right," she agrees, flashing the two guys a bright smile. She grabs onto Harvey's shirt, a gentle pull on the fabric enough to make him follow her. She pushes him into the bathroom first but stalls in the door opening herself. "Might take longer now," she tells Tanner then, before entering the room too and closing the door behind her and locking it.
Holding his tongue, he stares at her wide-eyed, waiting for her to face him again before he speaks in a hushed voice. "Now what?"
It's the million-dollar question, and she has absolutely no idea, but she isn't about to tell him that. Not after he made her promise not to act weird, she pulls on the tie in her hair and lets her manes slip from the ponytail, before reaching into the shower and turning on the hot tab.
"Donna," he presses a little louder now that the falling water is creating somewhat of a barrier and when she pulls his NYU shirt over her head, leaving her in just a cotton bra he doesn't know where to look.
"I'm taking a shower," she says again, now slipping the boxer shorts she borrowed down her legs, and she steps into the shower with her underwear still on. Letting the water run over her face, she moves to the open door again. "Unless you stick your head under the sink, you need to get in here and shower for them to believe this charade that may I remind you, was your idea."
He groans and curses himself for even suggesting this charade in the first place. Any other girl asking him to hop into the shower with her, he wouldn't have hesitated. But with her, it's always been different. "Donna."
"You've seen me in a bikini before, Harvey. Just pretend we're at the beach."
Pretend we're at the beach, he repeats the words in his mind, and he wills himself to get a grip. It was indeed his idea, it's just acting, and if Donna can so easily slip into the necessary actions, he should be able to do so too.
He exhales and makes up his mind then, pulling his shirt over his head too and dropping his sweatpants to the floor. Harvey steps into the shower in nothing but his boxer briefs and lets the water hit his frame as he stands next to her. He tilts his head back and revels in the water streaming down his frame, running a hand over his face and through his hair before he turns around to face the wall.
He reaches for his body wash, flicking the bottle open and squirting a dot of the content in the palm of his hand. Holding the bottle in front of her, he waits for Donna to turn over her hand, and he repeats the motion. Both are silently massaging their arms; he watches her struggling to reach over her shoulders.
"Do you need help?"
Even under the warm water, she feels a shiver run down her spine at his question. "Harvey." His name leaves her lips; it's barely above a whisper.
He gulps, chastises himself for the suggestion, for pushing a boundary yet again, but then he remembers this was her idea and the words she used to convince him. "Pretend it's sunscreen," he says. "We're at the beach, right?"
"Right," she parrots in a beat, without fully getting the chance to think over her answer. "Yeah, sure," she adds as quickly as possible, her body on high alert though. Anticipating his upcoming touch because she's afraid to give away she was second-guessing all of this. Donna's frame still freezes when his fingertips ghost over her shoulder, grabbing her hair to move it to the side. The shiver that runs down her spine, sketching the path his hand follows as he massages the shower gel into her skin.
He circles his hand over her back, almost tracing the freckles scattered over her shoulder blades. His hand moving lower with each circular motion, he lets it hover above the back of her bra for a brief moment before he makes his thumb slide down her ribs and brings his hand ever so slightly to the side. He stops his movement just above her hips, not trusting himself to touch her any lower.
She holds her breath as his hands lift from her skin, one finger after the other. Each motion causes her to close her eyes and swallow. When his hand brushes past the side of her neck to move her hair back, she feels the sensation settle in the pit of her stomach.
"Thank you," she croaks out, trying to find her voice. She reaches for the bottle of shampoo on the side, taking a step forward. It's just an inch; all the small shower allows for her to move. Donna's breath hitches in the back of her throat once again when Harvey's arm sneaks around her and steals the bottle from her grasp.
"Harvey."
He opens the bottle and squirts some of the content in the palm of his hand. He gives Donna the bottle back before he reaches for her red manes. "Pretend you're at the hairdresser," he mirrors her first suggestion, and he lets his digits slip between her wet hair until he reaches her scalp, massaging the wash into her hair.
She rocks back and forth on her spot ever so slightly with every gentle push and pull of his hands on her frame. Tilting her head back to let the water stream over her face, she closes her eyes and revels in his touch; a moment so unlike them, not even supposed to take place now that it's just the two of them and yet she can't get enough.
Harvey draws his fingers down Donna's locks, twirling the end of a strand around the tip of his index finger – much like he had done the night before, just consciously now. He watches her draw a breath, shoulders heaving and slowly dropping when it slips from his grasp. "Turn around."
It's barely above a whisper, but it's there, and she does. Following Harvey's lead as she slowly but surely shifts on her spot, her gaze lifting as she moves following the movement of his hands around her face and just before her eyes meet his she closes them at the gentlest touch of his thumb on her cheekbone.
Harvey watches the fluttering of her eyelashes and the way her lips part as he tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear. Taking in his best friend right in front of him, he's seen her practically every day for the better part of three years; from casual clothes to fully dressed up he thinks he's never seen her more beautiful than at this moment.
His gaze fleets over Donna's face; from the barely-there freckles on her cheeks, he takes in the shape of her nose and the colour of her lips. Harvey knows he shouldn't, doing so would just be tempting himself, but he's a gambler, and he can't help but let his glance slip, following the drops of water cascading down her pale skin, over her collarbones and disappearing in her cleavage.
The bra she's wearing nothing special, but with the water added the white cotton doesn't leave anything up for imagination, and he licks his bottom lip. Swallowing thickly, he redirects his gaze and let's go at last.
She does her best not to gasp, but a soft sigh rolls off of her tongue nevertheless. Throwing her head back under the stream of water, she washes away the remainder of shampoo. Hoping the tingling sensation in the pit of her stomach will disappear along with it.
It doesn't, but she convinces herself it is gone anyway.
When she tilts her head back and opens her eyes, at last, it feels like a lifetime, but it's only been a few seconds since she turned to face him. Not willing to step away just yet, and she tells herself there's a minimum time to be filled to fool the others Donna opens the bottle of shampoo she had been fidgeting with, and she flashes him a smile.
"My turn."
Harvey doesn't get a chance to object as she plops the lid of the bottle and squirts a generous amount onto her hand. She pushes the bottle against his frame for him to take over, just like he had done. Donna doesn't wait for him to turn around but lifts herself onto her toes and brings her hands to his head, letting her fingers slip through his hair.
She massages the shampoo into his wet locks, much like he had done with her ginger manes. If it wasn't for the amount of shampoo she poured into her hand; a mastered measurement for her own hair, it's too much for his. The foam it forms on top of his head getting all over the place, he has to close one eye when it droops down his forehead, and she laughs.
"Sorry," she whispers.
He grins and shakes his head, droplets hitting her and he wipes the foam away with the back of his hand. "It's okay."
"Okay," she parrots, deciding then to lift the excess foam from his head and hold it in front of his face, placing it all along his jawline. He shakes his head and mutters something about her being one of those kids, to which she shrugs.
She bobs her head to the side and takes in her creation, studying the way it looks. She snickers once more at the sight. "You should not grow out a full beard."
"No?"
"No," she says with a shake of her head, moving her hand just so that she's wiping away half of it.
Harvey takes a step towards her, the limited distance between them growing even smaller, and it causes the redhead to move backwards. Her shoulders hitting the tile wall and his stomach nearly touches hers as he lets the water wash away his foam beard. Using his hands, he removes the rest from his head.
She watches his movement, the flexing of his muscles as he moves his left hand over his face. She lets her gaze trace down his arm, the firmness of his bicep, the small scar on his shoulder and then his six-pack – the one that even after years of beers and parties has become firmer than the first time she saw it.
Drawing her bottom lip between her teeth, she inhales and dares herself to glance down. Letting her gaze move over the V-shaped muscles and the hint of hair that runs down from Harvey's navel until it disappears under the elastic band of his boxer briefs; and then those themselves. A dark navy but the wet fabric still outlines everything.
"Hey, lovebirds." Tanner's loud voice echoes through the room, followed by a couple of knocks on the door. "Hurry up; some people have places to be, you know."
She snaps out of her daze then and spurting into motion. "Shut up, Travis," she belts back, pushing past Harvey to get out of the shower and she grabs the first towel from the shelve she can find.
Harvey turns around under the stream once more, running a hand through his hair to remove any left-over shampoo before he turns off the shower and gets out too. Grabbing a towel as well, he runs it over his head. Quickly dries his arms and upper body and then wraps it around his middle. "Now, what?" he asks.
Donna takes in his words, bobbing her head up and down as the tries to come up with an answer; the only option being them leaving the bathroom again. "We'll get to your room," she answers, at last, tucking the edge of her towel down under the other, she brings her hand to her shoulder and pushes the strap of her bra down. Wiggling her arm out of it, she does the same on the other side and props both strands under the towel too.
He watches her in confusion but manages to snap out of it before she looks up at him again. He nods then, stepping forward and reaching for the lock on the door. He glances back at her over his shoulder, mouth a count down and then whispers, "let's go."
She takes a deep breath and clings onto the towel, then quickly pads after him. Rushing through the living room, she does her best to ignore the comments from the other guys, shutting it all off by closing the door to his bedroom behind her. Letting her shoulders slump against the wooden surface as she turns the lock, only truly exhaling then.
So far, so good.
A drop of water drips from Donna's head onto the top of her nose; it's enough to remind Donna they've yet to face another struggle; getting dressed. She pushes herself onto her feet again, deciding it's best to just get it over with.
Rubbing a hand over his arm, Harvey watches Donna make her way over to the other side of the room and open a drawer of the cabinet under the window. He bobs his head to the side, would ask her what she's doing but he knows better than doing that.
Donna quickly scans the content of the drawer, closing it again and opening up the one below. She hums to herself and then rummages through the material, lifting a black pair of boxer briefs from it. As she turns around, she closes the drawer with a swing of her hip.
She sashays her way back to the other side, lifting her folded clothes from the floor and placing them on the edge of his bed. Reaching under the towel without moving it up, she shimmies out of her wet panties and puts on the boxer briefs she just stole. She reaches behind her back next, undoing the clip of her bra and pulling the piece of clothing out of the towel.
Donna watches him lower his gaze and turn around as she does so; the movement itself not surprising in itself but reminding her of the reality and the boundaries between them. She turns around too then, turning her back to him and still teasing him about not taking a peek.
Harvey chuckles softly and shakes his head at her remark because he was the first to turn around. He tries his best to ignore the ruffling sounds behind his back – not trying to piece the moments together when he hears the towel fall to the ground with a loud thud.
He draws his bottom lip between his teeth and inhales as he glances down at his feet. Rocking back and forth on his spot, he shuffles a little and picks on his nail as he tries to distract himself. Harvey throws his head back next, stretching his muscles as he rolls his head during the wait and he accidentally catches a glimpse of her silhouette as she reaches to the side to grab her dress - her pale skin a stark contrast to his boxers, her waist slim, back covered in freckles and the swell of her breast firm. He quickly averts his gaze, looking straight ahead again - his Adam's apple bobbing as he does so.
She slips on the sleeves of her burgundy wrap dress, bringing each half around her frame and tying the band on her hip. Putting on her tights next, she struggles a little with the loose-fitting pair of boxers she put but eventually manages to make it work, and she puts on her boots and cardigan as well.
"So," she mutters as she reaches down, Donna picks up both the towel and her soaked underwear. She flashes him a small smile when he turns around again; she hands him the used towel as she sidesteps him and hangs her clothes on the radiator to dry. "I uhm… should go to class."
He eyes the clock behind him at her mention of class, the time displayed on it way later than he thought it was. His class is just about to start, and with professor Gerard's stance on punctuality, there's no point in going anymore. "Fuck," he mutters under his breath, nodding at her as she's already halfway through the room.
He doesn't follow her or walk her out like he usually would. He doesn't say goodbye, either. The events of the last fifteen minutes finally catching up with him, he physically can't move only snapping out his daze when he hears the front door fall shut. He walks to his door, peaking out of it and into the living room only to find it empty.
The entire charade as they moved back to his room, the time it took for her to get dressed probably for nothing and all it does now is bring back the imagery of her silhouette.
"Fuck," he curses, his back landing against the wall. His shoulders slump down as he lets his hand hang low, gazing down at his towel-clad lower half. The thick fabric no longer being able to cover his burgeoning erection.
He peeks out of his room once more, just to make sure if his roommates are there. When he realises they aren't, he makes his way back to the bathroom, closing the door right behind him. He turns on the tab first before he pulls on the towel and hanging it on the hook at the wall. He shimmies out of boxer briefs, freeing his erect penis as the soaked fabric drops on the tiled floor.
He steps under the cold stream of water, turning around he lets it run over his entire frame. A heavy breath expels him as he closes his eyes and tosses his head back while standing under the stream. He runs a hand over his face, wiping the water away, but the temperature does nothing for his state of mind, let alone his physical appearance.
The need to strong, the easiest way to get it over with by touching himself and he turns up the temperature first before giving in at last. Harvey reaches down and cups his length, sliding his hand down from the base to the tip, using his thumb to press over the swollen head. He groans and lets the water wash away the precum leaking from him.
He can't help but think about the shower he shared half an hour earlier; the first time he did such a thing without it being sexual and yet he considers it to have been the hottest encounter in his life.
He remembers the way the soaked fabric of her bra stuck against her frame, how it outlined her pink nipples; the droplets that hung from the small peaks and he remembers the glimpse of her body he caught in his room. It was just her silhouette, but he recalls her curves, her slim waist, and the swell of her breasts.
He groans again, feeling his member throb in his hand at the image so fresh in his mind it is barely a memory already, but one he'll remember forever. Harvey swallows, Adam's apple bobbing as he does so. He lets his free hand fall against the white tiles for support as he begins a slow stroke.
Up and down his length, he is alternating the speed and the pressure on the tip of his cock. A moan rolls off of his tongue, and when he closes his eyes, and all he sees is red, he knows there's no way back. The only way for him to come is to think of her.
And so he does.
With every stroke of his hand, he imagines it to be her delicate fingers sliding over his length. When he cups his balls, he thinks about the joke she would make while doing so. Harvey moves back to the tip, turning his hand into a small c as he slides it over his sensitive member, he imagines it to be her mouth.
Her plump lips would leave kisses over his length, her tongue trailing down a pulsing vein. Her lips soft against his skin as her warm mouth swallows him whole. He imagines the way she'd bob her head, her body moving along with every move as she'd be sitting on her knees right in front of him.
He envisions the view he would have on her in that position, watching her mouth envelop his cock. Her breasts bounce every time she sucks him in, accidentally hitting his legs every once in a while. Her swollen nipples pressing against his skin each time she moves closer.
He fantasises about her touching herself while blowing him, not just his erection but his mind because all he's able to reach is her hair. He thinks about her hand cupping her breasts, the way she'd roll her taut nipples between her fingers. The stark contrast of her nail polish on her complexion, her skin covered in freckles that would become more and more flushed and not just because of the warmth of the water.
He likes to think she would moan around his shaft, the sound like or laugh or anything she says music to his ears, but it's the vibration is would cause that he enjoys the most.
He pictures her alternating her hands, working his base and his balls with her mouth around his swollen tip. He'd watch her free hand slide over her frame, her breasts, kneading, squeezing and moving lower in a tantalizing pace until it would disappear between her legs.
The sight of her getting herself off while pleasuring him would be too much to handle. His knees would tremble, and his hips would buck towards her mouth. He'd plead, call her name, but she'd suck even harder, slower and look up at him with those innocent hazel eyes and that is it, that's what will pull him over de edge.
"Donna," he breathes, pleading for her to let go, something she'd do just before he comes and her name leaves his lips like a chant. "Donna, Donna, God Don…na."
Except when he opens his eyes, it's not the porcelain skin of her chest that holds his sperm; it's the tile wall of the shower. Another low groan leaves his lips, and his eyes close again, finally feeling himself go limp.
.
Friday, December 7th, 2018
Softly knocking on the frame, Donna stalls in the door opening as she waits for her roommate to acknowledge her presence. She smiles when the brunette does, entering Rachel's bedroom at last. She strides to the bed in the middle of the room and sits down on the edge. Contemplating the way she´ll ask her friend she shuffles and pulls her legs up under her.
"Do we have plans tomorrow night?"
The question leaves her lips with a little hesitation, and even though deep down, she already knows the answer, she does hope they have plans. Like the good ole' days where all of them would hang out every Saturday, and while them hanging out hasn't exactly happened since Halloween, she wishes for the tradition to return. Not just because she misses hanging out with her girlfriends, but more so because it would mean not being with Harvey. And if she has to be honest with herself, she needs a night away. An escape from the reality they created.
Rachel turns around to look over her shoulder, the small smile on her lips spreading into a knowing grin. She bobs her head to the side and eyes her friend. "I get it," Rachel answers, "you just want to be with Harvey right now. You know what, why don't I stay at Mike's tomorrow night and you and Harvey can have this place to yourselves for a date night."
"A date night." The words she repeats come with a hint of uncertainty.
Rachel bobs her head up and down, her grin now becoming cheeky. "Well," she mutters then. "I mean… Bow Chicka Wow Wow."
"Ooh," Donna is about to object to Rachel's suggestion, but she just about manages to swallow in the rest of her words. Realisation hitting the redhead once more that this isn't something she can deny anymore, or even hesitate to answer. Anything that would suggest that is a possible way of blowing their cover, and as hard as their deal turns out to be, Donna can't be the one to mess it up.
She smiles softly, draws her bottom lip between her teeth and pats the duvet on her right with her hand as she pushes herself to stand again. "That would be nice, yes," Donna answers, at last, flashing the brunette a smile once more before leaving her room again. The smile on her face disappearing just as fast and she grabs her phone from the pocket of her cardigan, unlocking it as she goes, she opens the last text to Harvey.
Date night tomorrow – x
Saturday, December 8th, 2018
Donna shuffles over the light blue couch; she pulls her legs up under her, draws the end of her sleeves over her hands as she folds her arms in front of her chest. She brings in a breath and exhales slowly, eyes darting out to the clock on the wall until her attention lands on the other voices in the apartment; Mike and Rachel.
She watches them appear into the living room and turn around again, the sound of the friendly bickering dying along with it. She taps the screen on her phone then, watching it lit up as she takes in the time presented in front of her. Not a minute had passed, she shifts again, fingers twitching and pulling on the fabric of her shirt. She wishes she had a drink but the night is too young for alcohol and it wouldn't sit right on her with how little she had managed to eat throughout the day anyway.
It's twenty-three seconds later, yeah she counted them, that the couple reappears, bags in hand and smiles on their faces and if she had been wearing a smile, it would have faded by now, just as quickly as the pit in her stomach formed. She watches the two lovebirds move in sync, flashes them a fake smile when Rachel wishes her a good night. One she manages to maintain until she hears the door fall shut and her stomach turns once more.
Donna gets up and struts towards the kitchen, she´s halfway down the living room when she halts and reconsiders her actions. Not being able to remember what she was going to get anyway she continues in the opposite direction. The sudden halting of her activities results in the redhead pacing around the living room until she forces herself to drop down on the couch again.
She has been second-guessing her decision to fake date her best friend pretty much from the moment she agreed to it or remembered agreeing to it. And even though they seem to be pulling it off quite well, she can't help but feel nervous around the one person typically makes her feel comfortable.
Her subconscious is to blame for that, making her wonder about things Donna long decided weren't an option. The way her body starts to react as well not helping the situation either; it's not just butterflies in her stomach, it's the tension she feels settling in the pit of her stomach and the ache between her legs that comes with it. One she caved to not once but twice now.
A deep breath expels her, and her eyes flutter close at the memories, the voiced purpose of the night by Rachel only adding fuel to the fire and while she's used to a dry spell, she didn't expect the touch of her best friend, albeit always short and innocent to make her crave for so much more.
Three loud knocks coming from the hallway take her by surprise, and she wakes from her thoughts. Shaking her head as if it will help push the images aside, Donna makes her way over to the front door, taking one last deep breath before she reaches for the handle.
"Showtime," she whispers, but she would have never been able to prepare herself for the image that presents itself on the other side of the door. Her mouth drops, a soft gasp rolling off of her tongue and her gaze drops to the bouquet of pink lilies in his hands. Her hazel eyes flicker up to meet his next.
"Harvey," she breathes, taking in her favourite flowers. She can't remember if she ever told him, but the fact that it is lilies instead of roses makes her forget the rest of her sentence. The question as to why he brought flowers in the first place remains unspoken; the look written over her face tells him as much though.
Harvey grins proudly, it isn't often he manages to surprise his best friend, but when he does, it makes him break out his signature Specter smirk. Harvey bobs his head to the side then, extending the flowers to her. "Marcus once said you should never show up on a date without flowers."
She chuckles at that, to anyone it might sound like the most random explanation but she knows the youngest Specter, and it's right up his alley of things to have said; probably to annoy his brother. "Well," she grins then, finding her voice again. "He's right about that," she agrees and takes the bouquet from his hands. She doesn't invite him in or waits for him to enter, merely turns around knowing he'll follow her anyway.
She arranges the pink lilies in the kitchen, places the vase on a cabinet next to the wall, and as she consequently runs out of things to occupy her mind with her nerves make a comeback. She eyes the room they're in, the couch she was sitting on minutes before in particular and while it's has been such a commonplace for them to have shared she isn't so confident about it now. Rocking back and forth on her spot, Donna eyes him, standing there in the middle of her living room, she blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.
"What do you want to eat?"
"You won't agree to anything else but that shitty Thai place, so I – " His answer gets interrupted by the ring of the doorbell, and instantly Harvey makes his way over to the door; already knowing that it must be the delivery guy. "As I was saying," he continues, holding up the bag, he flashes her a knowing smile as he drops down on the couch.
Donna holds back a sigh as he misses the way she wanted to signal the table, even though they've never shared a meal there before. There's no way to make it look casual now if she has to call him back, so she goes to collect them both a drink and drops down on the right-side end sight of the couch. As far away from him as the object allows her to.
.
Moving a few of the remaining noodles around over the bottom of her cardboard box with a chopstick, she glances up and watches him eat. Averting her gaze again when she senses he's about to look at her in return. She chastises herself for her nerves, for the lack of conversation, and she knows that when he's finished with his dinner, the silence, even with the movie playing in the background, will become painfully awkward.
"It's weird, huh?" she mumbles then, unsure of where she's going with it but she can't take the silence anymore and being the one to break it allows her to steer the conversation.
"Huh?" he hums, not entirely understanding what she is hinting at with her question. His thoughts lead him to one of their earlier conversations, but she said everything was fine; her actions after that only proving her statement. So Harvey takes another bite of his dinner and eyes her then, awaiting her response.
"I mean… all of this…" She pauses and looks away once over. Donna wishes she could put into words what is making her feel this way; their decision to pretend to be dating. But she agreed to his request and even though she's the actress, meaning Donna should be the one having no trouble switching back to reality. Yet, there's something about the situation that makes her oblivious to his behaviour. She tells herself he's acting like he always does, so the redhead brings up something else that's been on her mind since one of her tutors brought it up. "College," Donna says now. "It will be over in about six months."
Harvey thinks over her words, draws his bottom lip between his teeth to remove a bit of the sweet sauce that lingered there, and a chuckle follows then when a memory hits him.
"Every year, the first day of school," he starts as he notices a hint of confusion washing over her face despite her stoic look at the cardboard box in her hands, it's the wrinkle her brows make when she thinks. "Dad got me a jersey with my name on it. Back when I wanted to be a baseball player."
She didn't know this in particular, but it indeed sounds like something the man she knows would do. Donna smiles at the image he sketches. "Do you still get them?" she wonders out loud, but deep down, she already knows the answer; she's never seen any of the jerseys he describes.
He shakes his head and shrugs. "Not after I busted my shoulder."
He doesn't have to say it for her to realise it means he never got one during his time at NYU. She also figures it isn't Gordon withholding the present, but one of his remarks on the subject matter that made his father put a hold on a tradition she assumes must have run since he went to kindergarten. "Well," she muses then, "maybe instead of having your name on a jersey… One day it will be on the wall at Gordon Schmidt Van Dyke."
He realises her words are a bit of a tease, but he also knows that apart from his father, she's the one that always has faith in his abilities. Gordon Schmidt Van Dyke Specter. Even though he knows the combination is highly unlikely, Harvey still pictures her description, and he breaks out in a smile then. "Yeah," he mutters with a nod, shifting ever so slightly he drops his left arm on the backrest of the couch. He taps his hand against the blue fabric, and he grins as another thought crosses his mind. "You know if this acting thing doesn't work out, you could always come and work for me?"
"Like what? Your secretary?" she fires back, giving him a look that already tells him her answer.
He shrugs anyway, decides to push her buttons even further. "I'd love to have you on my desk."
She laughs now, loudly, and she shakes her head. Her best friend is an idiot, but they're talking and having fun again, so Donna lets him. She pulls her legs up and to the side, her right hand still playfully slapping his arm at his suggestion. "I'm going to have a masters in acting. No way I'm going to spend all day managing your calendar, mister."
He fake pouts and she rolls her eyes.
"I could be your first client, though," she says with a bright smile, and Donna moves her hands through the air as she speaks next. "Harvey Specter, representing Broadway's rising star, Donna Paulsen."
Her own words remind her of the tickets she has in her backpack, and she gets up to retrieve them. When she returns, she drops down on the couch once more, leg pulled up under her, her shoulder hitting Harvey's lower arm as she does so. She extends the two tickets in front of him, silently offering them with a smile.
Harvey's back straightens as her hair tickles his arm and his eyes darts to the two pieces of paper in front of him. He knows what they are, but the fact that it is more than one throws him off a bit. "You want me to bring a date?"
She chuckles and slaps his chest. "One is for your dad," she explains, "and the other for you; if you want to come?"
"When have I not been there?"
"Apart from the god awful dinner party?" She challenges his answer in return, but it's the way he shakes his head that makes her realise he's telling the truth.
"You've always been there?" The question pronounced so softly it almost goes unnoticed, but he reassures her with a nod anyway. She eyes him then, silently as reality dawns in on her and she swallows then thickly.
"I didn't know you were a Shakespeare fan," her words once more used as a joke to break away from her train of thoughts.
He laughs, shakes his head and then tells her the real reason for his presence. "I'm a Donna fan."
His words are so sincere that they tug on her heartstrings, and they make the nerves she felt at the beginning of the evening resurface. The closing credits of the movie starting to roll in now don't do anything to her comfort either, and she can merely mumble a heartfelt thank you in reply.
One she follows up with a fake yawn, stretched arms and an apologetic smile.
He doesn't seem to notice it though, automatically getting up and collecting both of their empty cardboard boxes to throw away. When he returns to the living room, Donna is already standing, he nods in acknowledgement and reminds himself of the rules. They're alone, Rachel won't be returning for the night, meaning there's no reason to pretend now and thus he reaches for the throw blanket from the basket. "I'll uhm… sleep on the couch."
She hesitates for a second or two and she shouldn't, she really shouldn't. No sleepovers is a rule after all, but it's also the opposite of what used to be their normal. And the point of having these twelve conditions in the first place was to ensure they would be able to go back to how they have always been. And thus Donna motions for Harvey to follow her with a nod of her head.
Harvey stalls on his spots, hands still clasping onto the thick fabric, he swallows.
She doesn't wait for him to move into action. Instead, she extends her left hand and reaches for his. Fingers slipping under his palm, the blanket drops to the floor as she moves ahead. Her arms swing behind her back as she guides him with her, switching the hold on his arm from her left hand to her right only letting go once they're inside.
.
He swallows, eyes scanning the dark ceiling as he tries to succumb to sleep. Donna's breathing is a reminder of the situation, how he's not alone. And even though they didn't spend the last two nights together, she still visited him in his dreams. That too a reason he finds it hard to give in to his tiredness
He tosses and turns, eventually turning around and reaching over for his phone. He checks the time, unlocks the screen and scrolls through his messages. "Fuck," he mumbles, when he spots a notification, one he had forgotten.
"Everything okay?" she whispers, rolling around to face him.
"Yeah." He lets his head fall to the right, his gaze locking with hers in the darkness. "It's just…" He sighs, a laugh escaping him. "It's my last wisdom tooth, they're removing it on Monday, and I need someone to pick me up."
"Okay," she says before he can ask her to do so. "Just tell me what time I need to be there."
"Okay," he agrees, a yawn escaping him at last. His eyes flutter, and he whispers his gratitude next.
"Ooh, Harvey," she pokes his arm then, she waits until he opens his eyes again before she continues. "If you're going to act weird, I'm going to film you."
He chuckles lazily, shakes his head and then turns on his side to fully face her. "I've gotten high plenty of times, nothing a little anaesthesia is going to do to me."
.
Monday, December 10h, 2018
She pulls on the balloon and makes her way over to the reception desk, letting her hands rest on the marble top. Her fingertips impatiently tap away as Donna waits for the nurse to turn around and face her when the older woman does, at last, she smiles.
"How can I help you?"
"I'm looking for Harvey Specter."
"Are you family?" the nurse asks before she turns to the screen on her right.
Donna rocks back and forth on her spot. The question not uncommon, and while it may feel like he is, fake dating aside even, she knows the truth won´t help her here. "He's my boyfriend," she answers with a smile.
"Alright," the nurse says as she clicks through the system, looking up his file. "If you go to the right, you'll find him in room 415."
She bobs her head in understanding, pushing herself onto her feet and follows the given directions until she reaches the room at the end of the hallway. She knocks softly on the door.
Harvey stares at the doctor, brows drawn together as he takes in the older man. The knocks on the door suspicious to him he tries to speak. "Expecting company, Goldfinger?"
The doctor looks at his patient, chuckling once before he announces that it's okay to enter the room. Both the doctor and his patient turn to look at the redhead appearing in the door opening.
"Hey," Donna smiles at Harvey.
"What are you doing here Helga Brandt?"
Donna frowns and chuckles at his answer, then she turns to look at the doctor and shakes her head. "I'm not," she says, extending her hand to shake the older man's hand.
"I know," the doctor replies. "He's been quoting James Bond movies ever since he woke up, but Mr Specter is mixing them up now," he explains. "Dr Lipschitz," he introduces himself, shaking the young woman's hand.
"I'm Donna, his girlfriend."
"Well, Donna," Lipschitz says. "This is just the anaesthesia talking, it should wear off in a few hours, but he's good to go home."
She smiles and steps towards her best friend, her hand reaching for his bicep she asks him to go.
"I'm not going anywhere with you, Helga."
Donna just about manages to hold in her laugh; she looks at the doctor again.
"You only live twice," Dr Lipschitz answers.
Donna grins and nods, figuring then the easiest way to get him home is just to play along. At least for now. She takes another step towards Harvey, her hand finding his shoulder and she leans in then, bringing her lips close to his ear. "It's for a mission."
He gives in with a deep sigh and mutters under his breath. "The things I wouldn't do for England."
She squeezes his shoulder, urging him to get up and she links her arm with his. Guiding him out of the room, she hands him the balloon she bought at the children's section of the facility when she entered. His smile is bright, his eyes fixated on the floating object, and if he weren't so high, she would have made fun of his behaviour.
"Are we going to Disneyland?"
His question takes her completely by surprise, and she laughs, immediately reconsidering her decision. The second they're home she is going to get some material to tease him with later on.
.
She flicks the string of the balloon that's stuck against the ceiling now. Dropping down on the couch of the empty living room, it was just the ride home, but she's already exhausted. He kept talking about seeing animals in the sky but insisted it weren't birds and she hopes the effect will wear off a little now that they're home.
He draws her attention again when he walks by her and straight into the open kitchen, pulling open the fridge. "Smoothie time."
She chuckles, shakes her head and gets up too. Figuring it might be best if she completes the task as he stumbles through the kitchen. She rounds the kitchen island, trying to take the bottle of apple juice from his hand. It's a small fight back and forth, but she wins when his attention draws to the bowl of fruit in the middle of the counter.
She turns around to grab the blender. "What kind of smoothie do you want?" she asks when he's lifting every single piece of fruit and placing them back again in the bowl. "Harvey?" she presses when he doesn't answer.
"Sssssssh," he objects with a finger to his mouth. "I'm trying to remember what they taste like."
She stares at him for a moment, biting down on her bottom lip and she figures this is as good a moment as ever to start filming him. She reaches for her phone and turns on the front camera, placing it against a stack of books on the side, she turns to look at him again. "Okay, which one?"
He points at the little plastic box with red fruits inside.
"Those are strawberries," she says, pausing for a moment to gauge his reaction. Wondering if he was going to object or not. She picks one from the box and smells it, before holding it up in front of him. "They smell kind of sweet, almost like candy but they can taste a bit sour." She hears him hum, and she figures it's enough of approval, she also thinks he's already forgotten all about wanting a smoothie as he walks back to the living room. She fixes him one anyway, adding a few to the blender and adding a banana, a hint of vanilla and a bit of whipped cream to it as well.
She picks up her phone, switches the camera around and brings him the strawberry banana smoothie. "There," she motions the glass, redirecting her cellphone, so she catches him on the frame again. He's talking absolute nonsense, and she finds it highly entertaining, laughing away at everything he says which makes him talk even more.
Ten minutes later he's had enough of talking but tries to play the PlayStation with the television remote, something he can't seem to figure out as to why it isn't working until she pulls it from his hands. She hands him the smoothie instead, telling him to drink it and she watches his actions through her screen.
The way he takes a sip, the satisfying hum that follows and she chuckles at the smile he gives her. The pink substance resting on the corner of his mouth, she leans forward, switches her phone between her hands and then reaches for him. Her hand falls against his cheek, her thumb wiping away the remainder of the smoothie.
She sees him watching her now, taking another sip of the drink she made him as Donna pulls her hand away again.
He swallows, licks his lips and then chuckles in himself.
"What?" she whispers, pointing at his nose.
He laughs again. "You look like a strawberry."
She snorts, nearly doubles over, and she shakes her head. "No, I don't."
He bobs his head up and down. "Yeah, you do," he answers leaning closer, his hand moving to point at her hair. "Red," he says, drawing the end of a strand through his fingers, "and you're sweet too."
"That's taste," she corrects him immediately, frozen on her spot as her gaze locks with his.
It's barely above a whisper, but it's there, he doesn't comment on that though. Something he might have done if not high, but the conversation wouldn't have even started if he was sober. And he sure as hell wouldn't have lean in further and spoken the following words.
"I love you, Donna."