There are a lot of problems that need to be addressed, but not right now. Right now, things are just going to happen seemingly fast and slow at the same time. Anyway, please review. Tell me how you feel about it. Even if you hate it.
"Dana Scott," Harvey greets dismissively.
Even the bitterness of saying her name burns his tongue and almost instantly his eyes flit towards Donna's desk. He likes to think that even on a normal day and under normal circumstances he would still do the same. He isn't just becoming overly sensitive to her feelings because of recent developments – at least he likes to think that he always has been. Donna, ever the actress, remains seemingly not bothered by anything happening in his office. He isn't an idiot. He knows that she's listening in.
"My my my, Harvey," Scottie muses, tongue in cheek, "don't you look magically delicious?"
His eyes roll in response. "Are you comparing me to a breakfast cereal?"
"I could eat you right up," she comments.
"Mmkay," Harvey hums, "but you won't."
"I'm sure you could find a babysitter on short notice," she ponders aloud.
"There are so many things wrong with that sentence," he says as he stands. Donna, from outside his office, rolls her chair a few inches away from his office. She is no stranger to his methods. His erected posture is his way of silently intimidating a woman who has been a thorn in his side on and off for nearly twenty years. "First, my son doesn't need a babysitter. Second, I'm not interested."
"When have you ever not been interested?" She laughs.
Three years ago, Scottie ended things with him because of Theo. Ever since then, the very hint of her name makes his skin crawl. He really isn't interested in being with a woman who can't seem to understand that Theo comes first, no questions asked. He thinks of Donna in that moment, the way that she even puts his son before herself.
He swallows, "my kid comes first, Scottie. You had a hard time grasping that then, why should I give you a chance to grasp that now?"
"Stop being so thickheaded, Harvey," Scottie snaps.
Harvey laughs bitterly, "I have an opportunity to be happy and I want you nowhere near that."
"I'm offended," she says. He doesn't believe her. He supposes that's the biggest problem. He's never really believed her.
Chelsea breathes into the phone and for some reason it really gets on Theo's nerves. He nearly snaps at her in response but he doesn't have that kind of energy left after the day he's had. He doesn't really understand why he's so fucking tired. He didn't do anything particularly different today than any other regular day. Maybe he just didn't sleep well.
Yeah, that's it. He just didn't sleep well.
He's feeling very tired. He's tired of people, tired of things and new responsibilities. He doesn't know how he's going to make it an entire school year. Maybe he has a cold coming on. That could be it. He's just getting sick.
He could really use a little nurturing right now. He isn't sure who to turn to for that. His father isn't one of those comforting types. Harvey is a no-nonsense kind of parent. He's great for the fun stuff and really hard for the tough stuff, but the stuff in between he isn't very good at. Theo isn't very good at it either, if he's honest.
Over the last 9 years he's called Donna when he has a problem. Even when he calls his dad, he still ends up as Donna's problem. Maybe he's always been Donna's problem and he's just his father's financial burden. He doesn't know why he's thinking this way. He knows that his father cares about him. But maybe that's it – maybe it isn't just caring about him, maybe it's that Harvey is the kind of guy who doesn't like to hurt people.
Maybe Theo just doesn't get it.
Harvey likes Theo, sure. Or maybe he just tolerates him.
Chelsea clears her throat and barks into the phone, "are you even listening to me?"
"What?" He replies on impulse, "don't be silly, of course I am."
"So what are we going to do then?" She probes.
He sighs, "I don't think I can do this right now, Chelsea. I can't help you get them alone together. Nothing will work. It's all too complicated, and I'm very tired."
"So you don't think it's working?" She whines.
He lightly shakes his head before remembering that she can't see him, "I don't think it's working."
"Ugh," she grunts, "my mom wants to talk to you."
"Sure," he replies absently.
He hears the phone switch hands on the other end before Donna greets, "hey, Kid. Your dad wanted me to take you clothes shopping sometime this week. Are you free?"
"I'll have to check my calendar," he teases, "looks like I can pencil you in on Friday at four. Is that good for you."
"I'm all yours," she replies. Theo can hear her smile from the other end. He finds comfort in that. He thinks he needs her more than he's allowed himself to realize just yet.
"Harvey," Jessica greets from behind him. His fingers are pressed against the elevator down button, attempting to speed the carriage up. He was about two seconds away from taking 50 flights of stairs until he'd heard his boss's voice, but now he's stuck here – not only wishing that the elevator would arrive around, but wishing that he could flee the scene without suspicion. She smiles in that way that leaves no room for question, "drinks?"
"I-"
"On me," she interjects before he can fully protest.
He hides his annoyance with a smile, "what are we celebrating?"
"I want to discuss your future," she replies.
He smiles and nods, not pressing the conversation any further. He reaches into his pocket for his phone to type out one of those text message things to Donna before realizing that he doesn't even know where to find that capability. He sighs as the elevator doors slide back open and puts his phone back into his pocket.
He doesn't even feel like there's anything he can do about this entire situation right now.
Donna sits at a table by herself, swirling a glass of wine by the stem. She checks her phone for nearly the hundredth time and, to no avail, she still comes up short. Harvey is late. Without a doubt, he is late and she feels like she's being stood up. He's right on the cusp of being an hour late. She's an idiot for thinking this time would be different.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me, she thinks.
She sets her wine glass on the table a little too hard to check her phone for the time again, not like much of it has passed. She's just getting anxious while sitting alone in a restaurant. Donna Paulsen waits for no man, but here she is waiting on Harvey Specter like always. In this moment, she hates herself a little bit.
She lifts her glass again, if not just an effort to busy her hands and to keep her from worrying about the possibilities, and drinks the rest of the smoky liquid in one gulp. Just as she's preparing to leave a huge bill on the table and ditch the joint, Harvey shows his face. She glares at him from across the room and his mouth twitches in response. He's hiding his pout in the crowded room, but she knows that look all too well.
When he reaches the table, he smiles in spite of her. "I'm so sorry I'm late."
"Where were you?" She asks, voice dialed down in the least accusing manner she can muster in the moment.
He grins widely and she knows that it isn't the worst case scenario. He wouldn't be able to look her in the eye if it was. "While I was waiting for the elevator, Jessica insisted that we go out for drinks and-"
"Are you drunk?" She interjects.
He narrows his gaze, "I sipped a scotch. Most of it was water by the time I even got to it."
"Continue."
He smiles at the way she doesn't bullshit on the unnecessary details like other women have with him in the past. He leans forward in his chair and places his elbows on the table, like he's telling her a secret only for the two of them to know. She leans in from the other side. She likes knowledge about other people's business.
"She wanted to discuss my track to managing partner," he says. His eyes sparkle and she feels herself drifting to the thought of how cute he is when he's this excited.
"And?" She presses. She's almost afraid to say any more than single syllables, like if she even attempts it then she will just turn into a school girl or, worse, lose her filter and actually tell him what she's thinking.
"Turns out, Hardman might finally be tearing his name down," he almost sings.
She lightly shakes her head and smiles, any hints of annoyance at his late arrival quickly fleeing her demeanor. "It should be your name up there."
"It will be," he says with finality. For a moment she stares at him and lets his words sink in. Her face turns into one of awe once she's registered what he means. Before she can say anything in return, he winks at her. "But I don't want to talk about work."
"We always talk about work," she points out.
"Not tonight," he replies decidedly, "tonight, I want to talk about us."
A shiver skates down her spine. His eyebrows furrow and lips purse in response. The question settles on his mouth despite the fact that it never leaves his lips.
She shrugs and picks up her empty glass, having forgotten that she'd downed it just seconds before she planned to flee the scene. "It's a lot of pressure."
"What is?" He plays dumb.
Her eyes leave him and settle on the navy table cloth. "This incessant need to define us and what we're doing."
"You don't want to do this," he notes matter-of-factly.
"No," she protests, quickly reaching across the table and covering his hand with her own, "it isn't that I don't want to see what it would be like to be with you. It's just that-"
Her thought hangs and he can feel the space between them build in the reluctance. "What is it, Donna? Just say it."
"It's complicated," she finally mutters.
"Bullshit," he says without hesitance. He sighs then and drags his other hand through his hair. He doesn't do this often because his appearance is important – any hair out of place is a sign of weakness. She's making him weak and it embarrasses her. He catches her gaze. "You're scared. What are you so scared of?"
"You," she admits. It's soft when it leaves her lips, like she thinks she's returning the favor by showing him a weakness. He doesn't see it as a weakness. It makes him squirm a little with the realization that he might have a little bit of real power over her. "I'm scared that we won't make it work and we'll ruin everything that we have between us."
"Donna," he starts. He stops for a moment as his thumb loops around her fingertips, like he's begging her to stay. He looks her directly in the eye and swallows. "We can't keep living our lives in this limbo, being terrified of being together but not giving anyone else a chance to love us. I can't imagine being happy with someone who isn't you."
He notices that what he's just said only seems to scare her more. Her body inches away but her hand remains in the same place. He's afraid to let her say anything because he doesn't think he's going to like whatever it is.
"Please don't back away from me," he pleads, "stay with me. Help me figure this out."
It's then that she realizes out of the two of them, she is the coward and she has probably been the coward all along. She takes a quiet moment to recollect herself before deciding that she really has to jump in with both feet. If she were honest with him right now, she would say that no one would ever mean to her what he does.
Instead, she doesn't say that;
she pushes herself to her feet, reaches out, touches his cheek, and presses a kiss against his lips.
Chelsea hasn't seen any kind of progression between her mom and Harvey since Saturday morning when it was too early for her to care. In fact, she doesn't think they've spoken at all since that day. Maybe they are both so against the idea of dating that the weekend made them feel uncomfortable with each other. God, she can't even imagine how awkward work would be.
She has one headphone in, the bass of a song beating in her ear, and she watches her mother with one eye. Her mother has been reading an issue of Vogue a little too intently for the last hour. Her mother hardly ever reads the articles. Chelsea knows that she's only there for the fashion.
Her mother is the best actress she's ever seen. That includes Meryl Streep. Okay, probably not Meryl Streep, but she definitely deserves a nomination for a few of her performances.
She tucks her bottom lip between her teeth and ponders the approach. She doesn't know how to ask her mother if she would ever consider dating Harvey. No use in wasting all of this time and energy trying to make something happen if it never will. She's a man down in the plan since school started and Theo has been distant. Hopefully her mom will get him to talk later in the week.
"Hey, Mom," she says before she even has the headphone out of her ear.
Donna lifts her eyebrow in response, "yes?"
Her mother peers at her over the magazine. "Do you," she starts but isn't too sure of herself, "do you ever get lonely?"
"What?" Donna asks while laughing.
Chelsea shrugs and loses her confidence. Her gaze shifts to the open book in her lap but she isn't really looking at it. "You just, you don't date much."
Donna laughs loudly and it takes Chelsea off guard. "Oh, honey, you have no idea how much I date."
"You never go on dates," Chelsea argues, "you're always sitting at home with me."
Donna smirks but narrows a gaze at her daughter anyhow. "You're not always home."
"How come I've never met any of them?" Chelsea is practically pouting. Donna feels guilty about it.
"Because," Donna says, closing the magazine like she's punctuating the finality in her point, "none of them have been…special."
"Special? That's all you've got?" Chelsea almost screams. "So what do you do? Just screw them and then end it?"
"That's not very nice," Donna points out, "and it isn't any of your business if I have sex or not."
"I hope you're using protection. Wouldn't want you to come home with a baby," Chelsea mutters. Hints of jealousy lines her words at the mention of a baby.
Donna pushes herself off of the couch, but Chelsea notes the way that she is sure to grab her phone like she couldn't stand it to be out of reach. She wonders if maybe the problem, the biggest flaw in her plan of setting her mom and Harvey up, is that she's already dating someone.
Donna smirks and shakes her head, "clearly you still don't understand that babies aren't delivered by a stork."
"Shut up," Chelsea replies, breaking into a grin. She is her mother's daughter.