On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...
A night just for me.
Donna wanders through the department store aimlessly, muttering beneath her breath each time a fellow shopper bumps into her. She took the afternoon off work so she could beat the holiday rush while picking up the last of her gifts, but it seemed dozens of other people had the same idea and she was stuck dealing with the holiday madness just like everyone else.
She wanders through the men's department, trying to rack her brain for any idea that screamed Harvey, but she keeps drawing a blank. He was the last person she had to buy for, and she hadn't a clue what to get him.
Harvey was the kind of person that was impossible to buy a gift for. He had everything. And if he didn't have something he wanted he would go out and buy it for himself before anyone had a chance to gift it.
She considered buying him a new briefcase, but that seemed impersonal. Buying him a surprise plane ticket to Boston seemed too personal and nothing in between appeared to be good enough.
Wandering aimlessly through the aisles, she picks up items only to put them back down. She's slowly giving up hope when she spots a familiar blonde associate.
"Mike?"
"Donna?"
"What are you doing here?"
"Some last minute shopping," Mike explains, "you?"
"The same. I have no clue what to get for Harvey."
"You could always just stick a bow on your head," Mike snickers.
Donna rolls her eyes and glares at Mike.
"That was a joke," he adds when she doesn't respond.
"Hilarious," Donna quips. She doesn't mean to sound dry, but Mike being so forward about her relationship with Harvey startled her. He often made jokes about the two of them, but today, it seemed real. She and Harvey had been skating on thinner ice than usual, blurring the line they'd spent years drawing in the sand.
"Are you alright Donna? Normally you would've had a snappy response to that joke."
"I'm fine," she lies. In truth, she was overthinking, wondering if something was actually happening between her and Harvey, or if she was imaging it.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure," she says, "what about you, who are you shopping for?"
"Rachel sent me out to get something for her parents," he sighs. "Any ideas?"
"What about something for their kitchen? A nice corkscrew maybe?"
"Oh simple but practical, I like it. I'll leave you to shop but I mean it Donna, you know you can always talk to me."
"Thanks Mike."
Donna watches as Mike heads over to the kitchen supplies and then continues to casually browse.
She's about to give up and head home, too preoccupied with over analyzing her relationship to come up with a proper gift idea, when thinking back on her relationship with Harvey gives her an idea.
She would get him a Miles Davis record to replace the one she dropped and scratched during their days at the DA's office. Harvey loved to tease her about the mistake, she didn't make blunders often, and replacing it would be the perfect tribute to their decade long friendship.
She calls the record shop near the firm and orders the record before heading home to make an early dinner.
.
.
Donna is preparing pasta sauce when her phone rings from its place on the island. Balancing the wooden spoon on the edge of the pot, she reaches for the phone and puts the call on speaker phone.
"Hey," Harvey's voice fills her apartment. "Is this a bad time?"
"I'm just making some dinner, what's up?"
"What's the name of that pizza place I like on the Upper East side?"
"You called me to ask the name of a pizza place?" she laughs. She'd spent the afternoon trying to sort through her emotions and came to the conclusion that things definitely had shifted between her and Harvey. Despite concluding she wasn't reading into things, she wasn't sure she was ready to act on her feelings.
"I knew that you'd know it and I was craving pizza."
"The one that does the bacon bits instead of pieces or the one that does the deep dish?"
"The bacon one," he clarifies.
"Bronzo's," she says. "But I'm pretty sure they close early at the start of the week."
"Shit," he curses, "guess I'm not ordering a pizza for dinner."
"Speaking of dinner, hold on just a second," she says. She heads over to the fridge, retrieves a bottle of wine and pours herself a glass while she adds a dash to the sauce she's preparing.
"What are you making?"
"Pasta," she answers. "You can come over and join me if you'd like?"
"I wouldn't want to impose," he says.
"It's fine, I have plenty."
"I'm still at the office," he begins and she's convinced he's going to decline her offer. "But I could be there in a half hour or so. Only if you're certain."
"Of course I am. But I should warn you I planned on watching the new episode of Twelve Days tonight."
"I won't stay long, I wouldn't want to ruin your evening."
"Just want to steal my food," she teases.
"Donna, I can order a pizza. It's really not a big deal."
"I'll see you in a half hour," she smiles. She hangs up the phone and continues to prepare what was now going to be dinner for two.
.
.
She doesn't bother changing, too cozy in her oversized knit sweater and leggings, but she does freshen up while the pasta boils.
They didn't do this.
Casual dinners. It was odd. But it didn't feel odd, and that was the strangest part. All afternoon she'd been in her head, wondering if this entire thing was in fact in her head, but she was starting to believe that it wasn't just her imagination playing tricks on her. She decided to live and let live, and let whatever may or may not happen fall into place on its own. She was going to carry on as she always did, and if Harvey wanted to initiate something, then she would revisit this.
True to his word, Harvey arrives at her door thirty minutes after his phone call, wearing the same suit and red tie she'd seen him in at her office. He looks absolutely exhausted, so she ushers him inside and offers him a glass of wine while he shakes the snow off his shoulders and removes his boots.
Donna already had the food set at the table, two large bowls of pasta and two glasses filled to the brim with red wine. She takes a seat at the head of the table and gestures for him to sit next to her.
"How was the afternoon?" she asks.
"The usual chaos, boring without you there to make faces at me during phone calls though. Did you finish your shopping?"
"I did," she nods, "I even ran into Mike."
"He asked if he could leave early. Something about finding a gift to make Robert hate him less?" Harvey chuckles and digs into the food in front of him.
"Oh god, I suggested a corkscrew."
"He's screwed," Harvey says. He waits for Donna to laugh at his pun and when she doesn't he throws his arms up and exclaims, "c'mon that was funny!"
"That was terrible," she giggles. Her laughter at his outburst causes him to smile.
"Not my best work, but still, funny."
They begin eating and Donna watches as Harvey takes his first few bites.
"Well?" she remarks.
"It's good. For someone who can't cook," he winks.
She reaches forward and tugs his plate in her direction with a smirk. "Take that last part back."
"Fine. It's good," he concedes and she pushes the dish back.
"Thank you," he says softly after a few beats of silence. "For inviting me."
"You're welcome."
They finish their meal while making small talk about their respective days. Donna tells Harvey about the sweater she ended up getting Amy for Christmas while Harvey tells her about his afternoon of meetings.
Harvey helps Donna clear the table, and stands next to her at the sink drying the dishes she hands him. They brush arms when she hands him the final dish and she turns away blushing.
"I guess I should get out of your hair before I overstay my welcome," he says.
"I was just going to watch the new episode, you're welcome to join me?"
"I did give Ray the night off, it's not like I'm in a rush to get home. Do you have popcorn?"
"And more wine," she grins.
"Okay," he nods.
"Okay?"
"Okay, I'll stay."
"Alright, but there's one rule if you're going to watch."
"Oh?"
"No complaining that this show is stupid."
"But what about—"
She holds up her hand and silences him, "nope. No complaining."
"I'll try my best," he says with an honest smile.
They place their recently refilled wine glasses on the coffee table and settle on her sofa, Harvey with his elbow propped against the left armrest, Donna on the next cushion beneath a fuzzy throw.
"Are you sure you don't want a blanket? I can grab you one," she offers.
"I'm fine," he reassures her.
She grabs the remote to set up the episode, and she settles back against the cushions to get comfortable. She brushes against his side as she tries to find a cozy spot. Out of instinct, he lifts his arm and rests it along the back of the couch behind her head. It fixes the problem and she settles against it, her body too close to his but she tries to ignore the tingling sensation pulsing through her. She presses play on the episode and focuses on the screen as the episode introduction begins to play.
.
The Twelve Days of Christmas
Chapter 7: A night just for me
Michelle had the day off to finish some of her holiday shopping, but she contemplated going into the office to see what would come of the almost she and Mr. Shawn had shared in his kitchen the night before. In the end, she convinced herself to stay home and finish running her errands. Mr. Shawn was a professional and there was no way he would address what (didn't) happen between them at the office anyways.
She picks up the few gifts left on her list and treats herself to lunch in Central Park before heading home to wrap her gifts. With a tall glass of red wine and a steaming hot pepperoni pizza, she settles down in her living room and pulls out her wrapping supplies.
She lays out a few gifts, a set of dolls for Mr. Shawn's daughters, a cookbook for her mother, a pair of boots for her nephew and begins to cut paper in various squares. Michelle is in the middle of taping up one of the packages when there is a sharp knock on the door. She gets up and slowly makes her way to the door, pulling her cardigan closer to her body as she moves swiftly in it's direction. When she pulls it open, Mr. Shawn is standing in her doorway grinning at her.
.
"Who's that guy?" Harvey asks when Donna gets excited.
"That's her boss, Mr. Shawn," she says quickly, her eyes still glued to the screen.
"Is he important?"
"Harvey!" she groans. Donna grabs the remote and presses pause before angling herself towards Harvey. "He's the main character."
"I thought she was the main character?"
"They both are," she explains.
When it doesn't seem like he has any more questions, she presses play.
.
"Hey," Mr Shawn smiles at Michelle.
She stands staring at him, confused. In the year they'd worked together he'd never once been to her apartment. He dropped her off outside once, but he'd never come upstairs. Now, here he was, standing in her doorway, smiling at her like him showing up was a regular occurrence.
"Hey?" she replies hesitantly.
"Sorry to just stop in like this, but I wanted to deliver this," he thrusts a white envelope into her arms. She takes it and turns it over and realizes it must be her holiday bonus, so she places it delicately on the hall table and turns back to him.
He's waiting for her to invite him in, but she's still caught off guard and can't seem to get the words out.
"Can I come in?" he finally asks, shattering the awkward silence.
"Sure," she nods, she steps out of his way and watches as he removes his coat and shoes while looking around her apartment.
"This is nice."
"Thanks," she mumbles. She closes the door and trails after him down the hall and into the living room. He eyes the dolls laying on the floor and chuckles.
"As if those two don't already adore you."
"I hope it's alright that I got them something?"
"Of course. You didn't have to though."
He steps closer to her and she loses all train of thought. He's in her space, taking up her personal space and he smells of peppermint and aftershave and desire. His gaze shifts from the stack of gifts on the floor to the blush in her cheeks and she has to remind herself to breath.
"I wanted to," she breathes.
He takes another step towards her and she freezes. She's overcome by the urge to run but the desire to stay tempts her too much for her to flee, and she stands rooted in her spot between her boss and the sofa behind her.
"Thanks for um, dropping that off," she says in a desperate attempt to give in to the silent spark looming.
"Of course."
"Is that… ugh… the only reason you stopped by?"
"I was hoping we could revisit that conversation from last night," he smirks. He's close enough now that she could reach out and touch his chest but she resists. She knows that doing so will open the flood gates and she's isn't prepared to fall without a parachute just yet.
"What conversation would that be?" she flirts.
"This one," he whispers. His hand cups her cheek and he moves to kiss her when his phone erupts in his pocket and the alarmingly loud ringtone shatters their moment.
Harvey watches Donna, her eyes wide as the characters on screen get closer and closer. She shivers when the cell phone interrupts them and looks away from him, her expression caught. Donna sighs, watching as Mr. Shawn excuses himself to answer the phone and then returns to tell Michelle he has to go and pick up the girls from ballet, as one of them wasn't feeling well.
"Does that happen a lot?" Harvey asks.
"Does what happen a lot?"
"Do they tease the audience about them getting together?"
"Not really," Donna explains. She hits pause even though the episode credits have already begun. "They did last season but this season has been surprisingly different."
"Interesting," he muses, finishing the last of his wine.
"Still think it's a stupid show?"
He puckers his lips and looks to the side before he utters the most unconvincing "no."
"You have terrible taste, it's so good."
"I'm not into that romantic comedy stuff," he replies, "it's too far-fetched. This kind of stuff doesn't happen in real life."
"It could happen," she pouts.
He flashes her a pointed "yeah-right" look and moves to down the rest of his wine. Donna offers him another glass and he says he shouldn't, but she insists he stay for another and that they watch the Christmas movie that came on after she switched Netflix off; especially because Harvey says he's never seen it. She teases him for a while about never having seen the Tim Allen classic, The Santa Clause, but he tells her that there are only two Christmas movies that matter.
She guesses Home Alone and Die Hard immediately and he smiles because she knows him so well. She questions why Die Hard 2 isn't also on the list and he launches into a lengthy explanation on how it just wasn't the same and that producers should let good things be rather than beat them to death.
When Donna returns from refilling the wine glasses, she plops herself back on the couch much closer to Harvey. It isn't her intention to brush up against his side, but he welcomes her by once again placing his arm along the back of her couch, behind her head, and an unspoken agreement passes between them that this is acceptable (or maybe it's that they'll never speak of this again).
She leans on him, ever so slightly, as she buries herself beneath the blanket, her head falling back where his shoulder meets the cushions. As they watch the movie, her eyes grow tired and her head begins to grow heavy. She stifles a yawn and stretches further into Harvey's side while he keeps his eyes glued on the movie.
When he finally dares to look down at her, her eyes are closed and she's breathing heavy against his shoulder, her red hair cascading over his arm and lap.
.
.
Donna stirs and lazily opens one eye, when she spots the blurry photo in her living room and realizes she must have fallen asleep on the couch. She shifts, turning onto her side and notices a weight around her center is keeping her in place. Slowly, she lifts her head and spots Harvey's arm strewn over her mid-section.
He notices her stirring and peers down at her, his honey brown eyes softening when she smiles up at him timidly. She's sprawled out across the sofa, legs on the far side, head resting in his lap while his arms wrap around her center.
"Hey," she whispers in a groggy low-tone. "Sorry, I must have fallen asleep."
"It's alright," he replies. He's still looking down at her with an intensity that makes her want to melt into the couch, "long day," he adds with a shrug.
"I didn't mean to…" she begins to try and apologize for invading his personal space while she works to pull her exhausted body off his lap. She reaches for the back of the couch beyond his shoulder and slides herself upwards, but fails to use enough force to sit up properly and instead finds herself at his eye level, her free hand planted firmly on his chest.
"I-" she begins but closes her mouth when words fail her.
Her eyes lock on his, searching, for a sign, or perhaps permission. For fear, confirmation that he's on the same page, reservation, discomfort. She instead finds honesty and desire and she's falling before she can even process what's happening.
"I'm sorry," she manages to finally vocalize. She isn't sorry.
"I'm not," he whispers, his breath hot on her face. There's a pause, an imaginary crackle rings through what little space is between them and his lips are on hers before she can draw in a final gasping breath.
There is nothing sweet about their kiss. It's messy, desperate and sloppy in an amateur way, but it still sends shock waves pulsing through her. He tugs her into his lap so that she's straddling him, his hands wind through her hair as he pulls her as close as the universe will allow him to.
He's already painfully hard when she grinds down against him, an action that elicits a throaty moan that she swallows with a searing kiss. His hands slip from her hair to her back, where they greedily roam, claiming every inch of her. He's everywhere but it's still somehow not enough and she angles her head to deepen their kiss.
"Harvey-" she breathes, placing a hand on her shoulder to slow the pace of things. She pulls back and looks him in the eye, "is this a good idea?"
"Probably not," he sighs. He leans forward and drags his lips across her exposed pulse point. He pauses, catches her eye again, waits for her to blink and then nips down on her neck. "But-"
"But," she breathes, her focus is on the way he's dragging his tongue along her skin. He kisses up her neck and nibbles on her ear. He returns his attention to her lips and begins to kiss her once again, slower this time. When they finally part for air, she rests her forehead against his and whispers, "Should we move this to the bedroom?"
He nods and watches as she climbs off his lap and stands in front of him. He rises from the couch, but rather than step around her, he reaches for her waist and tugs her forward. She crashes into his torso and he smirks, hand slipping from her waist to her ass where he squeezes. He leans down and kisses her softly. She uses one hand to cup his cheek, the other to brush the hair off his forehead and she rocks forwards on her toes to kiss him.
Stepping back, she grins at him devilishly and begins to walk away, "Are you coming?" she flirts.
It takes a moment for his legs to process what's happening but soon he's trailing after her with his mouth hung open, eager to touch her again. He stumbles into her bedroom and flicks the door closed behind him.
.
.
She wakes in a startle, eyes flinging open with a gasp only to discover she's alone. Donna jumps up and looks around her empty living room. The couch feels larger, empty, without Harvey and she shivers. She wraps the throw around her shoulders and sits up. The wine glasses are no longer on the table and for a moment, she wonders if she's dreamt the entire evening or if it was only the last part that was conjured up by her mind. Rising to her feet, she stretches her arms over her head and looks around her apartment for any sign of him. When she finds none, she sleepily wanders into the kitchen and notices a note on the counter next to the sink. She picks it up, noticing the washed wine glasses in the sink and reads it.
You looked comfortable and I didn't want to wake you so I let myself out. Don't worry, I locked up. Thanks for dinner. - Harvey
She forgot he had a key, but the thought is suddenly strangely comforting. Brushing her teeth, she crawls into bed and closes her eyes. For the first time in nearly a decade, she allows herself to think of Harvey that way as she drifts off.