On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...
An ice rink and a tray of cookies
Early Saturday morning, Donna is rushing around her apartment looking for the wool hat that matches her red coat when the doorbell rings. She swings the door open and utters a frantic hello before resuming her search in the hall closet.
Harvey watches with amusement as she rifles through a bin of outerwear, and a smile breaks out across his face when she yells "gotcha" into the pile of mittens. She re-emerges from the closet holding a white wool hat and smiles at him while bidding him a proper good morning.
He's dressed down compared to what he would normally wear to the office, khaki pants and a knit sweater beneath a grey pea coat and a red scarf that matched the shade of her jacket almost perfectly. From beneath his own winter cap, he smiles at her and hands her a coffee cup.
"What is it?" she asks, reaching for it.
"The lady at the shop said it was like Christmas in a cup," he explains. He watches her face light up as she takes a sip and knows he made the right choice.
"You didn't get one?" she asks.
"I had one before I left the apartment," he explains.
"Thank you, you didn't have to stop just to get me a coffee."
"It was on the way," he lies. He went out of his way to go to the shop that advertised Christmas drinks because he knew it would make her smile.
"Come in, I just need to grab my purse and we can head out."
Harvey does as she says, slips off his boots and follows her into the kitchen. He leans against the counter while she goes to retrieve her purse and watches as she begins to look through her cupboards.
"What are you doing?"
"I want to put this in a travel mug so it stays warm on our walk," she explains. She finds what she's looking for and empties the contents of the cup into a tall, slim thermos with a lid. "Ready."
She picks up the empty paper cup and goes to throw it in the recycling bin when letters printed song the side catch her eye and she turns it over.
Call me, 212-555-0990 - Bailley
She chuckles to herself and holds the cup up. "I was going to toss this out but are you sure you don't want to keep it?"
He looks confused, until he realizes there is something printed on the cup and his eyes widen. "I- I don't even know…"
"That the barista was flirting with you?" she teases. "Here." She slides the cup across the counter towards him.
"You can toss it," he sighs.
"You don't want the number?"
"I don't need it," he responds.
Donna discards the cup and pokes fun at the barista hitting on Harvey until she can tell he's had enough and she drops it. He explains that the woman simply wasn't his type, and says nothing more about the subject. Donna supposes it should bother her, random women hitting on Harvey, but she's worked with him long enough to know this wasn't abnormal and she found it comical rather than upsetting. She wonders if he would have kept the number if she hadn't seen it. Maybe, he'd already written it down before coming over. Or maybe, he just wasn't interested in this Bailey woman. In the back of her mind, she's hopeful it's the latter, but she doesn't hold her breath; this was Harvey after all.
The two of them head out and begin their walk towards Central Park, where Donna insisted they go skating early, before the rink became crowded and it wouldn't be as enjoyable.
When they arrive, the ice rink is practically empty, save for a few families and young couples, and Harvey rents them each a pair of skates. This rink in Central Park was Donna's favourite. Placed in the center of some massive trees and surrounded by lights, it always felt so festive and secluded from the rest of the park. Sometimes, on warm winter evenings, she would walk past the park and watch as the skaters made their way around the ice, the reflection of the lights on the fresh fallen snow illuminating the entire sphere surrounding the rink. Being here in the early morning was equally as magically. The freshly cleaned sheet of ice reflected the surrounding snow-covered evergreens, and the crisp morning air made her feel weightless and hopeful. She smiles as they lace up their skates, eager to hit the ice and be immersed in the magic of this winter wonderland.
.
.
In Donna's mind, Harvey excelled at everything. He was the top of his class at Harvard, he won countless poker games and gave Mike a run for his money every time they went to the batting cages. But Harvey, it turned out, was a horrible skater, and she was both amused and entertained by his attempts to find his balance on the ice.
She watches as he pushes away from the boards, glides towards the center of the rink but stumbles and lurches forward when he attempts to lift his foot. Skating up beside him, Donna extends her arm and offers him a hand back towards the outer edge of the rink, but he stubbornly refuses and once again tries to push off and fails, sliding forward a mere inch and waving his arms frantically in an attempt to stay upright.
"Good save," she smirks as he straightens himself up and stands still next to her.
"Why are you so good at this?" he eyes her as she easily glides back and forth in front of him.
"I took lessons as a kid," she explains. "And it isn't that hard."
"These things are a lawsuit waiting to happen," he gestures down as his rental skates. "Why didn't you tell me skating was so hard?"
"Why didn't you tell me you didn't know how to skate?" she replies with a swift raise of her eyebrow. She turns backwards and faces him while he once again tries to slowly push forward and glide on two feet in her direction.
"I figured I would pick it up," he shrugs. The sudden shoulder movement throws him off balance and he teeters forward just as a child is rounding the corner of the rink near him. Attempting to avoid the collision, Harvey leans forward and topples over, reaching out for Donna and taking her down with him as he falls. She falls next to him, her upper body landing on his, as he lands between her and the ice, his arms wrapping around her upper body. She takes one look at the terrified look on his face and bursts out laughing, her cheek brushing against the scarf exposed at his neck, her laughter infectious. This entire situation, the skating in Central Park, the tumbling on top of one another like this was a scene from some cliché Hallmark movie, it was too much.
"Did I hurt you?!" he exclaims, sitting up to examine her.
"I'm fine Harvey," she reassures him.
"Why are you laughing?"
"You should see the look on your face," she giggles, "you look terrified."
Donna brushes the snow off her coat and pushes herself to her feet, extending both hands to Harvey to help him up. He accepts, reluctantly, and slowly manages to climb to his feet with a groan. "I'm going to feel that in the morning," he complains, dusting the snow off his knees while still clutching Donna's arm to maintain his balance.
"What do you say we grab some coffee and call it a day?"
"You don't want to skate any more?" he asks.
"I do, but I think Jessica would be pretty upset if you come back to work with a concussion," she chuckles.
"I'm not that bad," he whines. She just glares at him and he begins to laugh. She was right, he was a hazard to everyone on the ice.
"Do you need a hand getting to the boards?" she offers, even though he's still holding her.
He doesn't. Not really. They're only a few feet away and he's confident he can make it. But he doesn't want to let go of her arm just yet so he nods and slips his hand through hers and allows her to lead the way to the edge of the rink, their gloved fingers intertwined. Once they reach the boards, he clutches the top with his right hand and keeps his left hand secured in hers. When they approach the exit, he reluctantly drops her hand and steps off the ice, letting out a silent sigh of relief that he's back on the non-slippery ground. He eyes Donna as she silently unties her skates, her red curls framing her face perfectly beneath her hat. She catches him staring and he blushes.
"You're staring," she says.
"Admiring," he corrects her. "You're a good skater, but I'm not surprised. You're good at everything."
"Duh," she winks, "I'm Donna."
He shakes his head, something he always did when she jokingly used her name as a title, and begins to untie his own skates. They return their rental skates and Harvey purchases them each a spiked hot chocolate. They decide to walk back to Donna's apartment, the snow-covered path through the park too picturesque for them to pass up the opportunity. Harvey asks Donna about her childhood skating lessons and Donna asks Harvey why he never learned to skate. He explains that he had no interest in winter sports as a child, and that his mom never pushed him or Marcus to participate in them since Gordon mostly toured during winter months. By the time they reach Donna's apartment, their jackets are covered in snowflakes and their hot chocolate cups are empty.
"Do you want another?" Donna offers as they venture from the hall to the kitchen. Harvey nods and unbuttons his jacket, leaving it to dry off on the backs of one of the chairs at the table.
"Make it a double," he responds, twisting around to try and aid some of the pain he's beginning to feel from his fall.
"It's hardly noon," Donna replies.
"So?" he smirks. She makes each of them a double.
.
.
"Now I remember," Harvey gleams, leaning on his elbows. He's looking across the kitchen at Donna who is poorly attempting to whisk chocolate chip cookie batter. "You can't cook. I take back what I said earlier you definitely are not good at everything."
"Hey!" Donna exclaims.
"You know it's the truth."
"Just for that, you don't get any of the cookies."
"Is that supposed to be a punishment?" he smirks. She walks over to him and smacks him with the whisk, causing some of the batter to fly up and land on his cheek. He wipes it with his thumb and sucks the finger clean, creating a dramatic popping sound. "Hmm, not bad."
"Too bad you can't have any," she sticks her tongue out at him and continues to whisk.
"Allow me," he offers. He takes the bowl from her, stands next to her and begins to move the whisk in small, quick movements. "Like this," he instructs.
Harvey reaches over and grabs Donna's hand, guiding it towards his so she can mimic his motions. She grabs hold of the whisk and his hand and a chill runs through her. She looks up at him and catches his eye before they abruptly turn away and Harvey continues to stir the dough.
Donna clears her throat and mumbles something about turning on the oven, while Harvey finishes mixing the dough and places the bowl down on the counter next to the baking tray she'd already lined with parchment paper.
"Since when can you cook?" she asks, watching him roll the dough into balls.
"Since always."
"Your fridge is empty every time I come over."
"I can cook, it doesn't mean I do cook," he flashes her a massive smile. She loved when he smiled like this. For some reason it always reminded her of their days at the DA's office.
Donna excuses herself to use the restroom and takes a moment to splash cold water over her face. She and Harvey didn't do this. They spent time together in the office, they grabbed brunch and went shopping together, but they didn't spend the afternoon participating in domestic holiday traditions, flirting and toeing at the line they'd drawn years prior. Their entire day reminded her of their early days working together. When they hadn't yet defined the terms of their relationship, and would spend evenings and weekends flirting excessively; a year's worth of foreplay until they finally caved in, acted on their feelings and slept together - forcing them to finally define their relationship.
She didn't know what they were doing. They were just friends but they were holding hands and making cookies and exchanging glances. And she wants it. All of it. But she doesn't want it like this, when she's certain it's only because he feels alone during the holidays. She loves him. Wants to spend the holidays making cookies and decorating their tree, but she isn't sure he'll ever be ready for those things and she's not sure how long she's willing to wait around for him.
Donna fixes her makeup, dries her hands, and gives herself a final look in the mirror. She wonders if Harvey feels it too. The charge that pulses through her every time they touch. It's almost better not knowing, because if he does feel it, it means he doesn't want to act on it and she's certain her heart can't take knowing that. When she returns to the kitchen, Harvey is smiling proudly and announces that the cookies are in the oven and will be ready in twenty minutes.
They work together to clean the kitchen and Harvey manages to only complain once about the Christmas music she puts on in the background.
"This is fun, we should do this more often," Harvey says as he bites into a warm cookie.
"Make cookies?"
"Hang out," he clarifies. "Why don't we do this more often?"
Because it reminds me of what we could have.
Because it takes everything in me not to kiss you when you lean in close and wipe the crumbs from the corner of my lower lip.
Because I'm in love with you. And I shouldn't be.
"Work gets busy," she mumbles. She finishes her cookie and doesn't reach for another.
"Right," he says.
"Maybe we could…" she begins to suggest that they make more time to hangout outside the office when the doorbell rings.
"I should get that," she sighs.
Donna opens the door and finds Rachel standing in the hall holding a bottle of wine and a bag of take-out. "Rach, you're early!"
"Is that alright? I thought we could eat before we watch."
"Who is it?" Harvey calls from the kitchen.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry I didn't realize you had company," Rachel beams, lips curling up into a smile.
"It's fine, come in," Donna tells Rachel. She leads the way back into the kitchen and announces that Rachel was at the door.
"Hey Harvey, sorry I didn't mean to interrupt," Rachel greets.
"You're not interrupting, I was just leaving," Harvey smiles. He grabs his jacket off the back of his chair and slings it over his arm. "Good seeing you Rachel."
"I'll walk you out," Donna tells Harvey.
She follows him into the hall, ignoring the face Rachel makes behind Harvey's back and opens the door for Harvey.
"Thanks Harvey. Today was a ton of fun."
"It was. Let's do it again sometime."
"I'm going to take you up on that," he promises and her stomach lurches. For a moment, she thinks he's going to hug her goodbye, but instead he lingers in the threshold of the door and awkwardly pats her on the shoulder. "Have a nice night with Rachel."
"Thanks," she says. She leans on the doorframe and watches as he waits for the elevator, waving once he steps on.
When she returns to the kitchen, Rachel has the food sprawled out across the counter and two glasses of wine filled.
"These cookies are terrible," Rachel says, mid-bite. "Too busy to pay attention to the recipe?" she raises an eyebrow at Donna.
"Rach!"
"Well?"
"Still not like that."
"But it could be like that," Rachel replies.
Donna doesn't respond, but her brow quivers, her pupils expand and Rachel knows she's gone too far.
"Sorry, I didn't mean…"
"It's okay, let's just talk about something else."
"Let's eat, then we can start the episode."
.
.
After dinner, Donna and Rachel settle down on the sofa with their wine glasses and get ready to watch the fifth episode. A nervous excitement overcomes Donna and she realizes that she's been looking forward to watching the episode more than she thought.
She doesn't often become infatuated with television shows. Usually she finds her own flaws in the main characters, rather than similarities and it forces her to acknowledge them. Suddenly, the worlds of fantasy and reality collide and watching is no longer pleasurable but a chore. She wasn't oblivious to her own faults, but having them on display was not something she enjoyed. So, she hardly watched television shows, instead choosing to remain blissfully oblivious to the fictional worlds so many people found themselves lost in. Those people were seeking a life greater than the one they lead, she however, was content to live her mundane life, for she was determined to seek out the beautiful moments it held captive.
This show, for some reason, struck a chord she couldn't pin-point. There was something about it that had hooked and reeled her in, and she felt as though she needed to see how it ended, and she needed to witness the happily-ever-after part. It was a strange feeling, to be so captivated and involved in the lives of people who didn't exist in her world, but she found herself rooting for Michelle and Mr. Shawn. Something in the back of her mind insisted that if they could make it, everything in her life would be alright. It was a ridiculous notion, she was aware, but she clung on to the hope it brought her, nestled against the sofa cushion and pressed play on episode five.
.
The Twelve Days of Christmas
Chapter 5: An ice rink and a tray of cookies
"How was your date last night?" Michelle's mother asks her over the phone.
"It wasn't a date," she clarifies, "it was just dinner between friends."
"Darling, I don't go for a steak dinner with men I call 'just friends'" her mom says.
"It was a work dinner. We were talking business."
"Right."
"He's not interested in me like that mom. He's made it clear he isn't looking for a relationship."
"Make it unclear."
"I'm not sure I want t-"
"You're interested in this man, aren't you?"
"Of course I am. But it's complicated. He isn't ready for something serious and I don't want another meaningless fling. Especially with a man I really care about. He has his kids to think about. Plus, we work together. What if it didn't work out? Things would become so complicated and messy and I'm not sure I want to risk losing this job for a maybe."
"You know what your grandmother used to say. You'll never be happy if you don't take risks."
"Unfortunately, this isn't my risk to take. Look mom, I should get going. I've got an early morning but I'll talk to you later."
"Bye sweetheart."
Michelle hangs up the phone and places it down on her night stand. She pulls the covers up to her chin and lays back with a heavy sigh. She thinks about her evening, the way she and Mr. Shawn never ran out of things to talk about at dinner. The way he took her hand when he told her he was glad she'd come to work for him. The kiss he gave her when he walked her to the door; not the kind of kiss you give a friend. They'd been doing that more often lately, crossing the line and then pretending like everything was normal afterwards. They touched more often, he didn't hesitate to kiss her if the moment presented itself and each time she let him, she took his hand, she kissed him back.
She was torn because he said he didn't want more, but he acted like he wanted everything with her. That was perhaps the worst part. She knew she loved him. She was ready last Christmas when he kissed her beneath the mistletoe, but he wasn't and she respected that. Now, each time they kissed she grew more confused. He wanted her but he didn't want more. He wanted her until he didn't.
She loved him and she needed to decide how long she was willing to wait for him to be ready for something more. She falls asleep wondering if that day will ever come.
.
.
"God, this show has gotten so good," Rachel squeals when the end credits begin to play. "Who would've thought we'd get so many kisses when all we got last season was the one."
"Definitely unexpected," Donna nods.
"It's kind of like… really fucking hot," Rachel admits. "Them being friends but hooking up the way they do."
"You think?"
"Yeah, almost like it's forbidden love. Like they're having an affair behind their friendship's back."
"Damn, I never thought about it that way," Donna muses, "it is hot."
The girls continue to discuss the episode and while Rachel is going on about how disappointing it was their bet ended so soon and making predictions about the finale, when Donna's phone buzzes.
Harvey: Today was really fun, Thanks for forcing me to be festive.
She grins and replies while still listening to Rachel.
Donna: See, it didn't kill you.
Rachel stifles a yawn and places her empty wine glass down on the coffee table. She tells Donna she should head home but offers to first help her clean up. Abandoning her phone, Donna and Rachel quickly toss out the take-out containers and tidy up the apartment. Donna says goodnight to Rachel, slips into some comfortable clothes and climbs into bed.
She notices she has a notification from Harvey and unlocks her phone.
Harvey: Festive.
The text includes a blurry selfie of him in front of the tree they decorated together. She opens the photo and laughs to herself, the blurring caused by the tree lights and the proud grin he was sporting were adorable.
She replies by snapping a photo of herself in bed that says:
Donna: You don't need a tree to be festive, but it looks nice with the lights.
She hits send and watches as the three dots that indicate Harvey is typing appear.
Harvey: Nice sweater.
She looks down and her cheeks turn a deep shade of red. She hadn't realized she was wearing his sweater and now she was extremely embarrassed. Her fingers hover over the keyboard but he sends a second message while she tries to think of a logical reason for why she'd be wearing his sweater. She knew the real reason, that it smelt like him and made her feel comforted, probably wasn't the wisest response.
Harvey: It looks better on you than it does on me. You should keep it.
She shakes her head and smiles. Before she has a chance to overthink, she types out a message and hits send.
Donna: Good because it's mine now.
Harvey: Good night Donna.
Donna: See you tomorrow.
She falls asleep in his sweater and dreams about spending an afternoon with Harvey, only the people in her dream resemble Mr. Shawn and Michelle more than they resemble her and Harvey, and they spend the afternoon alternating between making cookies and making out.