NOTES: I realize that at this point, Donna is very un-Donna. I'm not sure why, I would say in the past I've written her quite well. Maybe, it is because we've never really seen her genuinely in a situation like this or not at work? She seems to operate generally in the parameters of safe. I'm not sure, and going to work on it because I love writing Donna being Donna being awesome.
Thanks to everyone, and enjoy! ~ Atheniandream
Break the Silence By Atheniandream
Chapter 4 – Cacophony of Sound
He didn't stay long at Mike's; the fear of her not being there when he got back still eating away at his subconscious. The beer had helped to relax him; muddle his tired brain. He was famished; he still hadn't eaten earlier and three beers had only made him hungrier. Mike had offered to buy pizza; however, he felt bad if he went home satiated when there was practically nothing in his cupboards for Donna; save for eggs, cereal, milk and ketchup. If he'd had his cell with him he could have ordered something. Hopefully she'd had the foresight to rummage through his things and fend for herself.
When he opened the door a strong smell of Chinese food wafted through the air; igniting his abated appetite. He wandered into the lounge to find her spread out on the floor, hair drying around her shoulders in uneven curls, now dressed in a camisole and what appeared to be her own pyjamas, with unopened boxes of Chinese food spread to fill his coffee table and two glasses with a bottle of red wine.
"Hey." She smiled softly. "It just arrived so it's still hot." She said, words treading softly.
He noticed her mood seemed lighter; eyes able to meet his but still a little guarded.
"Okay. I'm just going to take a quick shower."
"Sure." She said; pouring the garnet coloured wine level into both glasses and glancing at the news channel.
The warm water coursed over his body; the smell of lemons and rosemary from the shower gel rising in vapours, getting into the muscles of his arms and shoulders as he scrubbed at his hair. His head swam; mixed with adrenaline and beer and an almost calm at the easier mood in the air.
He wrapped a towel around his waist; dropping his things into the laundry bin. His hand reached for the handle, opening the bathroom door and missing the slight knock. Donna nearly fell through the doorway towards him. Eyes wide, he immediately reached to catch her, but she recovered just in time.
"I was just going to knock. It's getting cold. Nice…towel." Her eyebrow cocked at him. His reacted instinctively, rolling his eyes at her. "Get out of my way then?" He said; a hint of humour in his eyes as she gestured for him to pass.
"I'll just be a minute." He said, walking to his closet.
"Alrightly then." She replied, shutting the door behind her.
He joined her on the couch, paying close attention not to sit next to her. He didn't want to complicate things and he didn't want to crowd her. She'd only just broken her whole life off 12 hours ago and he had to keep that in mind.
He watched her as she divided out the food; a range of favourites they usually ordered if they were working late; Kung Pow Chicken, Beef in Black Bean Sauce, Special fried rice and Seaweed with noodles.
"You didn't find these here." He said, tugging at the knee of her plaid pyjamas.
"My dad found my suitcase; got it from the wedding car. They brought it over here before they left… Is that okay?"
"Yeah, that's fine." He said, not sure whether he was saying it about the portion size or her parents coming over as she handed him a plate. "Thanks."
They sat in their own comfortable silences. They'd done this before, eaten with each other hundreds of times; usually over piles of paperwork, or strategies and game-planning. Sometimes, when you're hungry you just want to eat with someone who knows you enough not to have to make conversation. No effort required; perfect scenario. That's why he hardly ever let anyone in. No one knew when to just… be silent. Admittedly she had learnt the hard way, having spent many a time - when she and they were much younger - running him ragged with her incessant talking and thinking out loud. He'd never really understood what had possessed her to take a job where she'd be sat in a cubicle for most of the day… she was defiantly one of the 'drama crowd' and didn't hide it. He'd never asked, assuming that like his bad shoulder stopping him playing baseball that maybe there was something in her life also stopping her from doing what she'd dreamt of. From acting, or dancing or whatever her focus had been.
Suddenly Rachel, the 6th grade teacher's words popped into his head again; so he put his plate down on the coffee table, taking his appointed glass of wine and took a risk; made the effort.
"What did you wanna be when you were a kid?" He said over his glass.
"Oh god, first I wanted to be a ballet dancer. Yeah….I bugged my parents like crazy for the lessons. Then I realized that I had far too much of this," She gestured her height, "And these," and pointed at her breasts. "The two don't really go together with being a waif-like 5 foot tall dancer."
"Bet the Football team loved you." He said, a smirk forming.
"Oh yeah, they all secretly lust over the freckly ginger drama-geeks…top of the food chain." She joked, taking a sip of her own glass.
"I love your hair." he said.
"As you should; Red heads are a dying breed, I'll have you know. Someone's got to carry that gene on." She replied,
"That colour is out of a bottle." He argued, he pointed to her hair.
"No it isn't! How dare you!" She argued.
"Weak defence, counsellor; I can see your roots." He smirked, pretending to get at the top of her hair.
"Excuse me, I may or may not have the occasional highlight, so sue me."
"Dangerous words. That can be arranged."
"And you're one to talk; you spend more time and money on your hair than I do." She countered.
"No, I do not!" He dismissed her with a roll of the eyes, a slight pout forming.
"I book your appointments, dumbass." She said; the shake of her head as she poured more wine.
She'd won this one; she was in 'the know'. Men's hair did grow faster though.
"Did you always want to play baseball?" She asked, her tone sobering him.
He took a moment on the thought; watching the red wine stain the inside of the glass he balanced it in his fingers.
"I think in some ways I was always going to be a lawyer."
"Oh, Really?" She laughed, somehow not believing him.
"I argued through school. I argued at home; I argued my way out of everything. I just didn't realise I could actually get a job at 'arguing'. I loved baseball, and I wanted to be the best switch-hitter of our generation, but I didn't make it."
"You wanted to be Mickey Mantle?" She said a playful smile and wine helping to soften her features.
"He played in the fifties not the eighties,"
"I know that, genius. I don't think I could work for anyone who had a thing for the eighties; far too much hair, and eyeliner."
"I don't know. I wouldn't knock the spandex." He said, the slightly purr on his lips.
"Of course you wouldn't." She said, leaning in a little closer than he'd expected her to but rollin her eyes at him all the same.
His eyes crinkled around the edges, studying every bit of her face, from the long blonde un-mascaraed eyelashes that curled at the edges; the faint diamond shape on the end of her nose; the green flecks in her brown eyes to the way she was looking at him right now through a hazy wine-filled head; like everything between them could change on the head spin of a dime.
"Donna…" He whispered; the hand steadying his weight against the couch, his fingers inches from hers as they danced on the precipice.
He wanted to kiss her so badly that it ached to hold himself back from her. But they'd already gone through so much without talking about it that he was lost as to where to start. Suddenly, if out of the wine-fog she finally said: "I was getting married today…tonight; I'm supposed to be on the plane by now." the reflection turning the sharp air languid.
"I am sorry." He whispered, the pit of his stomach lurching.
"I know, Harvey. I could have still gone through with it. It would have been difficult; awkward, but I could have. In the end it was my choice, I made the final decision."
"We're going to need to talk about this, when you're ready." He said; a statement of fact.
"Yeah," She said, her eyes boring into his like she couldn't see him properly, like she wanted to see something that wasn't there or that she didn't think was there.
His words failed him again. It was that look. The same look she'd given him in the church. He liked her like this, unfocused, unorganised chaos that she seemed to really be. It brought out a softness that he felt for her, but it scared him; he didn't want to feel weak with her. And she was still fragile; probably still lost. Doing the right thing was like going against every fibre of his being, he wanted nothing more than to emerge himself in her for the night and follow whatever whim was in him; a force of habit. But seducing her seemed like a terrible idea before they sorted out a few things. He didn't want to be accused of being insensitive to the whole situation, if suddenly she 180'd on the situation. Rachel Zane's logic would be the death of him.
"It's been a long day," He finally said.
His words sobered her immediately. She retreated, picking up her wineglass and downing the last of its contents before swiftly getting up and walking around the coffee table past him to the bedroom.
It didn't take a genius to know that that had indeed been the wrong choice to make. He wasn't great with words where it mattered. He stood up starting to walk after. "Donna,"
"Hey, you forgot this," He said, holding out his hand, waiting for her to stop long enough to grab hers pulling her into him, their chests and thighs colliding in layers of cotton and flannel.
She looked at him like she was a fire of contradiction but he didn't care anymore.
He found her lips, warm and slightly purple tinged as he encouraged her to open her mouth for him, sucking and pulling at her lower lip, eliciting an airy gasp from her. He felt her hands find either side of his stomach, roaming underneath the hem of his rising t-shirt as he pressed himself more firmly against her, the rise and fall of her cotton covered chest becoming too much for him. His hands cupped her ass, pulling her roughly against him again and again playing his own steady rhythm.
He must have caught her totally off guard because all of a sudden she tried to take charge, spinning them around and pushing him vaguely to the bedroom tongue trailing the length of his as her hands found his hair drawing little circles in his scalp. He suddenly changed the playing field and threw her to the bed. For a second, he stood above her at the edge of the bed, breath thready as she laid there, a mass of wavy red hair, red cheeks and bony knees; quietly stunned at his roughness until her competitive, devilish streak kicked in and she grabbed him, flipping him onto the bed, straddling him and locking his legs with hers. He chuckled softly, propping himself up by the elbows, pulling her closer with one hand to settle on his waist and pulling her down for a soft indulgent kiss. She pulled at the hem of his t-shirt, encouraging it over his head and onto the floor as hers followed. His hands instantly found her bra, yanking the front clasp open as she shimmied out of it. Just when she thought she had the upper hand, he grabbed her at her hips turning over onto her back, settling between her legs, both panting quietly against one another.
Would she ever give up that challenge in her eyes? he wondered.
It would always be a fight between them, whether they were talking, shouting, or kissing or fucking; when they weren't tied to their job roles and obligations this is who they were. There would always be some sort of power to be won between them.
His voice was still husky as he leant in close to her face, breath puffing at the stray hair across her face. "Let's get you out of those Pyjamas," He said.
When they fight, they fight
And when they come home at night they say,
"I love you, baby."
Was it too much too soon,
Or too little too late? ~ 'When they fight, they fight' By The Generationals
The sunlight streamed through the large windows of the bedroom as Harvey stretched, eyes weary to the intense heat coming through the wall-to-wall glass. A breeze caught at his face and his attention followed, noticing that Donna was indeed not in the bed, again. If this was a bad habit of hers, he was not enjoying it. He finally noticed her out on the balcony, hair fluid in the breeze, leaning against the rail as the sound of the city blew in through the open doors.
He walked to join her, yawning as he rubbed his hands over his face, the edge of a hangover thumping in the back of his mind as he took a spot next to her.
"The view up here..." She said in awe, looking out over the city; watching it going about its business; unperturbed by the fact that it was Sunday; cars still heavy in traffic, beeps and the humming of engines over a very clear blue sky. Spring was finally here.
"I like it." He agreed, interrupted by her face taking on a seriousness. "What?" He asked.
"We shouldn't have done this." She sighed.
"I did call it a night," He reasoned, the hint of 'I told you so' in his voice.
"You did," She relinquished, "It just makes everything…a little complicated right now."
"Donna." He said; the familiar command in his voice. She turned to him obediently, out of habit. "We'll work it out." He said, hands running down her arms in comfort.
"Will we?" She asked, incredulous as he advanced on her, his hands lacing at her waist as she leant into him.
They never hugged; even the night before they hadn't share so much as a hug, not a real embrace. Even when his dad had died she'd never even so much as touched a finger on him. When her forehead came to rest naturally against his shoulder it was times like this when he realised how much smaller she actually was. In her heels and bravado she looked ten foot high, always taller than him, commanding attention but in reality, in the world they never orbited, she was dainty; vulnerable.
"So, are you coming back to bed? It's getting cold without you there," He said with a cocky look on his face.
"Aren't you hungry? I'm starving." She asked, furrowed brow in tow.
"That's because you drank all the wine you alcoholic,"
"I know you drank beer before you came back. You saw Mike yesterday, didn't you?" She said, eyeing him with suspicion.
"How did you..?" He asked, flabbergasted.
"I'm Donna, I know. I'd have known a little less but you stuck you're tongue down my throat."
"Don't pretend like you didn't want it."
"I'm starting to wish I hadn't." She said, that sceptic look that she kept throwing at him appearing again. He couldn't tell if she was half-joking or not. And he didn't care, his hand dragging her back to bed. Food could wait.; they had waited far too long.
It doesn´t matter if they talk about us,
It doesn´t matter cause we are in, we are in love ~ 'We are in love' By Cider Sky
Note: Hikeyosemite asked about Jessica being angry. Hopefully I have answered this adequately in the next chapter 5.