On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
A late night and a glass of whiskey.
The following morning, Donna knocks on Rachel's office door and gestures to the two large coffees in her hand. Rachel, on the phone, waves Donna in and holds up a finger to indicate she'll be off the call in a moment. Donna places her friend's coffee down and nods as she mouths a 'thank you' and takes a sip.
Donna takes it upon herself to take a seat across from Rachel and sips from her own coffee while she waits for her friend to hang up. She spots a framed photo of Mike and Rachel on the corner of Rachel's desk and her heart swells. Despite everything her friends had been through, they somehow managed to make their relationship work, in fact, they were stronger for everything they'd gone through, and Donna admired them both for it.
She liked to consider both Mike and Rachel her friends, and she loved seeing the way they brought out the good in one another. It was crazy to think that had Harvey never hired Mike, he and Rachel never would have met and she and Rachel may not have become as close as they are. She had to remember to thank Harvey one day, for the rash decision that may have changed all of their lives for the better.
After a series of "mhhmm" and "yup," Rachel finally puts the receiver down and smiles at Donna.
"My god, that guy was such a talker. We finished talking business almost an hour ago."
"It was your dad, wasn't it?"
"Yup," Rachel laughs. "Thank you," she adds, waving towards the coffee.
"Don't mention it," Donna replies.
"I was wondering if you wanted to order Chinese later?" Rachel asks.
"Actually Rach, that's why I'm here."
"Oh no, this is a 'sorry-I'm-bailing-on-our-plans' coffee, isn't it?"
"Yes but I promise we can watch it together this weekend."
"I can't believe you're bailing on our wine night, I heard tonight's episode is supposed to be so good."
"I'll call you after I watch it and we can talk about it," Donna says.
"Wait, if you're still watching why are you bailing?" Rachel asks.
"I have plans," Donna mumbles. She folds herself towards her chest, subconsciously making herself smaller. She didn't want Rachel to fuss over her plans, when she knew they weren't anything special. She and Harvey spent time together all the time, tonight was no different from any other time they had dinner or shared drinks.
"Plans with a man?!" Rachel perks up.
"Plans with Harvey," Donna sighs. "The other day while we were out running errands he suggested we do something festive so I thought we'd make cookies or something."
"Oh?" Rachel smirks, unable to suppress her childish giddy excitement.
"It's not a big deal," Donna explains.
"Of course not," Rachel nods, but her massive grin betrays her tongue and Donna knows she isn't buying a word of what she's being sold.
"I mean it Rach, it's just like every other time we spend time together. We're friends."
"You know who else claims to be friends?"
"I don't think they claim to be friends, they are friends."
"They're more than friends."
"They're fictional," Donna reminds Rachel.
Before Rachel has a chance to continue to question Donna, her phone rings again and Donna uses it as an excuse to head upstairs to her own desk. She waves as she leaves and thanks whatever god might be up there for the timing of that phone call.
.
.
Mid-way through her afternoon, after grabbing a much needed post-decoration meeting coffee with Louis, Donna is sorting Harvey's calendar for the following few weeks when an extremely flustered Harvey strolls into his office in a hurry. He didn't have anything scheduled for the afternoon, so she assumes something has gone wrong with a client and decides it's best to let him work through it before bothering him with a stack of paperwork he needed to sign.
Harvey spends the next hour on the phone, followed by two hours worth of meetings with men she recognized from a company Daniel Hardman used to represent. By the time Harvey returns to his office, most of the other employees on the floor are packing up for the day.
Harvey tosses a stack of folders down on his desk with a heavy sigh, drags his fingers through his hair and undoes his jacket before he marches over to Donna's desk wearing a defeated look.
"Everything alright?" she asks.
"It looks like it will be. We had an old client of Hardman's threaten to walk but I think we've come up with a way to keep them happy and from signing with someone else. Unfortunately, I think I'm going to have to work late…"
He waits to gauge her reaction before he continues, but her only reaction is to nod. "Maybe we can reschedule?"
"Sure."
"Sure? You're not mad?"
"Mad? Why on earth would I be mad?" she asks.
"Well we made plans and I have to cancel. You could have made other plans or something if I'd known."
"It's alright Harvey, not a big deal. We'll do it some other time."
She doesn't plan on holding him to these plans so she purposefully chooses open ended words that he can interpret any way he chooses. This was something she'd come to master over the years. Whenever she wanted to avoid disappointment or misunderstanding, she was sure to use vague terms and allow him to decide what they meant.
"What about Saturday?" he suggests.
"That could work," she stammers. She wasn't expecting him to offer an alternative date so quickly. It's a pleasant surprise.
"Perfect. Saturday. Festive things."
"Saturday,' she agrees. "Festive things."
"I should get back to work, it's probably going to be a long night. You don't need to stay, you should go and enjoy the evening," he says, slipping into his office and closing the glass door before Donna has a chance to respond.
Donna continues to work until nearly 6pm, when she decides she'll stay and order dinner. She knows he didn't ask her to, but it feels wrong to leave when he's still working and she knows that it's too late to reinstate her plans with Rachel and going home to her empty apartment will only serve as a reminder that she's only for yet another holiday.
She's never minded being alone during the holidays. She was independent and wasn't one of those people that felt they needed a partner to enjoy the festivities, but this year, things felt different. She found herself longing for something more. Someone to go home to and cuddle up next to in front of her non-existent fireplace. Whether it was watching this romantic comedy or the fact that nearly all of her close friends were in serious relationships, there was something about being alone this year that bothered her. And the fact that she was bothered by being alone bothered her even more. A vicious cycle she'd fallen victim to.
Donna places an order at her favourite Thai food place and continues to work while she waits for it to be delivered. She's emailing back and forth with Louis discussing the holiday party and doesn't notice Harvey looking up from his desk and catching sight of her.
He smiles to himself when he notices she's still there, fiery red curls tossed over her shoulder and blocking his view of her face as she frantically typed. An unfamiliar feeling washes over him upon noticing she's still there, and for a moment, he considers asking why she stayed, but decides there's no use in asking a question he already knew the answer to. She always stayed. Harvey inwardly curses at himself for not having the courage to simply ask her to stay, and promises himself that one of these days he will.
Four emails and a series of eye rolls later, and Donna and Louis decide on a menu and a DJ for the holiday party. Donna's food arrives right on time and she's sure to tip the delivery man extra. She unpacks two cartons and a set of plastic cutlery, and then takes the delivery bag containing another carton of food into Harvey's office.
"You should eat something," she says as she plops the bag down on his desk.
"You didn't have to… I could have ordered my own food," he says.
"Thank you Donna will suffice," she smirks, already practically back at her own desk. She didn't want to disturb his work flow and she didn't want to miss the beginning of the show she'd loaded on Netflix.
"Thank you!" Harvey calls after her. She puts an extra swing in her step knowing he's now watching her return to her desk and she smirks to herself.
Donna settles down at her desk and begins her dinner while the opening credits of the episode begin on her screen. She leans back in her chair and shoves noodles into her mouth, satisfied with her own decision to order Thai. When she first decided to stay late, she hadn't intended to watch the episode in the office, but she was out of simple minded tasks and she couldn't be bothered to continue discussing tree toppers via email with Louis. So, here she was on a Thursday night, sitting at her desk eating Thai food while watching a Netflix special with her boss several feet away drowning in work.
It felt wrong. But at the same time, she knew her presence in the office was all Harvey needed to pull this off and she was going to enjoy the entire forty three minutes of this episode.
.
.
The Twelve Days of Christmas
Chapter 3: A late night and a glass of whiskey
Just before she's set to head home for the evening, Michelle notices the light still on in Mr. Shawn's office and wanders down the hall to see why he was working so late.
He often worked later than his employees, but it was going on 9 o'clock and he usually tried to make it home before his youngest went to bed.
Michelle herself had stayed late to try and finish up some paperwork so she wouldn't have to worry about it over the holidays, but it wasn't like she had anyone waiting at home.
She spots Mr. Shawn sitting at his desk, working away beneath the glow of his lamp. For such a smart, well-maintained business man, his desk was always chaotic and the discrepancy between the put-togetherness of his personal affairs and the chaotic one of his business affairs made her smile. It was nice to know he had his flaws.
Michelle makes her way towards the office, unable to stop herself from poking her head in and saying something before heading home for the evening.
"Do you always get such large gifts?" Michelle asks as she lets herself into the office and eyes the massive gift basket sitting on the corner of his desk.
"A new investor sent it to me," he explains. He continues reading the forms in front of him but briefly looks up and casts a smile in Michelle's direction.
"What are you doing here so late?" he asks.
"I could ask you the same question," she replies, "what about reading bedtime stories?"
He blushes, he told her once that his youngest refused to go to bed without him reading her a story, he didn't think she remembered the conversation.
"The kids are staying with my parents for a few days," he says.
Michelle nods, understanding now why he opted to work late and she walks over to the basket to inspect the contents. Two bottles of very expensive whiskey, some peanuts, truffles and a bottle of what she assumes to be olive oil.
"Weird combination," she says. "I thought you didn't like whiskey?"
"I don't."
She picks up one of the bottles and runs her fingers along the intricate design along the bottle's neck.
"Shall we?" she suggested with a small smirk.
"I suppose there's no point in wasting it, why the hell not," he grins. He puts down his pen and removes the glasses that are resting along the bridge of his nose.
Michelle fetches two glasses from a shelf in the corner of his office and pops open the bottle of whiskey. She pours each of them a generous portion and takes a seat on the edge of Mr. Shawn's desk.
He reaches for his glass, gives it a brisk swirl and downs a sip before relaxing back into his chair.
"Yup, I still hate whiskey," he puckers his lips.
"More for me then," Michelle smiles.
The pair sip on their drinks in a comfortable silence, Michelle swinging her legs against the side of the large oak desk, Mr. Shawn leaning back in his chair and swivelling it side to side.
"What are you really doing here so late?" she asks. "Those forms could have been looked over tomorrow."
"A man's work is never done," he replies with a sigh.
She wonders if he's even admitted to himself that he hated the idea of going home to an empty house. She suspects he hasn't.
"Right," she scoffs. "You work too hard."
"On the contrary, I think I work just hard enough."
"You should get out more. Have some fun."
"Work is fun."
She glares at him and playfully rolls her eyes. "Non-work related fun."
"I'm having fun right now," he replies, hand coming forward to rest on her knee.
It wasn't an unusual thing for him to rest his hand on her knee like this. In fact, they often touched like this when they spent time together after hours or outside of the office. She can't exactly pin-point why, but she was drawn to him and he to her and therefore they often found themselves brushing palms and reaching for one another when they spoke.
She doesn't mind. It feels natural. Whenever they spend time together like this, a strange intimate feeling presented itself, the need to connect was instinctual.
"That's not what I'm talking about and you know it."
"You're not out having a wild time," he points out, "you could be out with your girlfriends but instead you're here drinking with me."
"I like drinking with you."
It was the truth. She found herself looking forward to the nights she spent talking about nothing and everything with him, rather than nights spent with friends at a bar.
"Well then, I guess we agree. This is fun."
"I guess so," she smiles.
"To fun," he toasts, raising his glass in her direction.
She clinks her nearly empty cup against his and downs the rest of the contents. "To fun."
An hour and a bottle of whiskey later, she finds herself doubled over laughing, palm pressed flat against Mr. Shawns chest. He's standing in front of where she's still perched on his desk, having jumped up when excitedly telling a story from his days working as an intern.
He leans towards her as he tries to catch his breath, sucking in his cheeks as silence finally settles between them and his eyes lock on hers.
She draws in a small puff of air, a final laughing hiccup rolling off her tongue before the silence in the space between them consumes her and she's suddenly lost in his eyes.
Every motion that follows is drawn out. His hands settle on the desk on either side of her waist. Her hands clutch his shirt and urge him forward. His lips find hers in an eager and searing kiss. He lunges forward, she scoots back and lies beneath him, the papers littering the desk scatter to the floor. He slows the kiss down by gently tugging on her lower lip. She moans the first few syllables of his name against his lips, he swallows the rest with a kiss.
It's fast yet slow and she can feel every motion like a low vibrational hum pulsing through her body. She wants more, needs more.
He runs his palm down the side of her body, and licks his tongue into her mouth when the sound of laughter from up the hall breaks the spell they both find themselves under.
They part, he stands and buttons his jacket. She hops down off of his desk and does the same to her skirt. The laughing sounds from up the hall get louder and the pair watches as two employees stumble towards the elevators arm in arm.
"I—" she stutters. She had yet to process what had just happened.
"I should go," she finally manages to say.
"Right, I should as well."
Michelle pulls herself together and marches towards his office door in a hurry.
"Michelle!" he calls after her. The words die in his throat when she turns back around to face him and with a defeated smile he says, "get home safely."
He watches as she walks out of his office and towards her own. Watches as she waits for the elevator in the lobby. Watches as she shuffles her coat over her arm and steps onto the elevator to head home for the evening.
He gets up and pours himself another drink. Grimacing as he downs it, he sits at his desk and stares out the window, dreading the fact that he has to go home to an empty house.
.
.
She can feel his eyes on her while he hovers near the threshold of his office, but she refuses to look over her shoulder and meet his eye.
"What?" she asks. She can tell without looking that he has that look on his face.
"You're smirking," he points out.
"I'm not."
"You are," he says as he moves towards her desk. "What are you watching?"
"You know what I'm watching," she huffs, closing the browser on her screen and logging off the computer completely. "Did you come over here just to make fun of me?" she asks. The question comes out harsher than intended, but it's still said in a teasing tone.
"No," he states. "But it's just too easy when you insist on watching such ridiculous things."
Donna begins to pack up the items on her desk as she pretends to ignore the fact that Harvey is now in her cubicle and looming behind her. She stands and places her purse on her chair and swivels around to face him.
"You didn't have to stay," he says. "You could have gone home and watched."
"I know," she bobs her head, "I wanted to stay."
A silent conversation is exchanged between them, one that can only come after years of knowing each other. He knew she stayed for him, and she knew he wanted her to stay but wouldn't dare ask. So she stays and he pretends he asked.
"Thank you," he says softly. Donna smiles back, never one to be good at accepting his thanks.
"It was nice to have some company tonight. Sometimes being alone in my apartment around the holidays just…"
"Reminds you that you're alone," he finishes for her, catching her off guard. "Yeah, I get it. C'mon, grab your coat and I'll call Ray to drive you home."
"Aren't you going to need him?"
"I'm going to stay a little while longer, but he'll take you home."
"You don't have to do that," she protests despite knowing she wasn't going to win the argument.
"Donna."
"Harvey."
"Fine," she concedes, "but you better give Ray a nice holiday bonus."
"Of course," he nods. He steps back out of her cubicle and watches as she gathers up her things. He slowly makes his way back to his office and lingers at the door until she's ready to leave. "Good night, Donna."
"Good night," she smiles. She heads towards the elevator, coat in hand, only daring to look back once she knows he's retreated to the safety of his office.
.
.
"Did you watch?!" Rachel squeals into the phone before even saying hello.
"Of course!" Donna yells, "Can you believe?!"
"I know! Talk about a kiss," Rachel says.
After arriving home, Donna showered, slipped into some pajamas and poured herself a glass of wine before crawling into bed and calling Rachel to discuss the episode. The girls excitedly chat about the kiss and what it could mean for Michelle and Mr. Shawn for over an hour, both of them overcome with a giddy fangirl like excitement. Rachel is swept up in the excitement of the show, she almost forgets to ask Donna how her evening went, though just before hanging up she remembers and asks about the night.
"We both ended up working late so we had to reschedule," Donna explains.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be, it's not a big deal we'll just do it some other time."
Saturday, Donna thinks but she decides it would be better to tell Rachel afterwards, just in case something came up again, she didn't want Rachel making a fuss over nothing.
"Oh, before you go, Mike and I wanted to invite you over on New Year's. We're not doing anything to fancy, just a few friends, some cocktails and appetizers." Which in Rachel Zane's mind translated to a semi-formal event. "We're inviting Harvey, Louis and Jessica as well."
"Oh Rach I'd love to but I decided to spend Christmas through New Years with my mom this year."
"Shit, I totally forgot. It's just you usually stay in the city."
"I needed a change this year. I'm sure I'll regret it a day after being there," Donna snorts.
"Well, if you change your mind about going, our door is always open."
"Thanks Rach, I appreciate that. See you tomorrow?"
"Bright and early. Good night Donna."
"Good night."
.
.
Harvey finishes up the last of his work and decides to pour himself a drink while listening to one of his dad's old records. He puts the needle to vinyl and moves the drink over to his desk, where he sits staring out at the skyline.
Today had been one hell of a long day, and though he would never admit it out loud, he was disappointed he'd had to cancel on Donna. After spending more time together the past few days outside the office, he was looking forward to a relaxing evening learning about some of her holiday traditions. Instead, he spent the night neck deep in paperwork while she sat a few feet away. Some cruel twist of fate that was, he huffs to himself.
His phone begins to ring and Marcus' name flashes across the screen.
"Hey dickhead," he answers.
"That's my line," Marcus pouts.
"How are you Marcus?"
"I have my good days and my bad days. Today's a good day," he explains.
"Good to hear," Harvey replies, "And the kids?"
"All doing well. We miss you Harv. Are you sure you won't be able to make it for Christmas?"
"I just can't get the time off Marcus, maybe next year." It was the same lie Harvey told the year prior. And the year prior to that. Despite wanting to see his niece and nephew, he just couldn't bring himself to face his mom and Bobby. Not yet. He needed time to figure out what he wanted to say to them before he even considered making the trip to Boston. "But I'll send the…"
"Presents. Yeah, I know the drill," Marcus sighs.
"C'mon, it's not my fault my job is demanding."
"One of these days you're going to have to forgive her, you know? You can't push us away forever Harvey. We're your family."
"It was good hearing from you Marcus. Give Katie my best," Harvey says before hanging up and saying something he'll regret.
He runs his index finger along the inner edge of the glass before dropping his hand to the desk with a sign. In one swift motion, he picks up the glass and downs the remainder of the whiskey as the needle reaches the edge of the record and his office is submerged in silence. The lights from the office building across the street slowly begin to switch off, the sound of traffic on the street below begins to fade and he doesn't move. He sits there, alone in his dimly lit office, because it's better than sitting at home.