Hey friends, hope everyone is having a great September! I'm excited to post this one, which I've been holding onto a while. It's Sloan and Don's first huge fight (yes, excited about that :) ). This also, as you'll probably notice, takes place throughout the episode, "One Step Too Many," and many of the conversations are pulled in whole or in part from that. The only things that have changed from the show are that a.) Sloan and Don started dating after 2x04 (in November or December, depending on who is counting), and that the sex-picture scandal never happened (strictly because I couldn't figure out how to work it in w/ the long-term ramifications; I liked the storyline). The rest of season 2, though, has happened.
It certainly seems like a lot fewer people are reading this, which is completely unsurprising (we're about to hit 100K words, what!), but for those who are still reading, I really appreciate it! Thanks for sticking with this ridiculous journey.
March
"Got a sec?" Sloan asks with a quick knock at his open door.
"For you? Always," he smiles.
She normally would accuse him of being a 'flatterer,' but instead she just sits down and sighs. It's hours before her show, so she's dressed in a simple black wool shirt, boots, and jeans. "I'm having trouble with Zane again. And yes, I'm aware that I'm always having trouble with Zane."
"But you're delightful so it's not your fault," he points out.
"Exactly," she says in such a duh voice that he wonders if he remembers them having this conversation months ago. "There are two things, actually."
"What's the first?"
"He doesn't think student debt is newsy enough, but that one's fine. Well, it's not fine, but I know how to handle it — start getting it in a few end segments until it's on the agenda. I just need to do it in a way that doesn't turn me into the Stephen Colbert of daytime cable."
"He said that?"
"While I have many thoughts about Zane, I think he was trying to be funny, but failed. Obviously. I'm letting it go and you should too."
"I don't like that, at all — professionally or personally — but I'm not a prick like him, so I'll say OK."
"And the second is that several companies are benefiting from Saudi Arabia's tacit investments in an insurgency group in Syria. They're good buys."
"But for some reason you're upset at this group and don't think they should buy it? Gotta say, I can't argue with their logic that Bashar al-Assad should go."
"Have you read about ISI? They're awful. Links to al-Qaeda, funding other terrorists organizations, the whole nine yards. They're threatening the stability of the entire region, and yes, I'm implying that the Middle East is stable. But they're the enemy of the enemy for a lot of Middle Eastern countries, including Saudi Arabia, so they're getting funding from private donors."
"So you want to tell people that in the investment report?"
"Exactly."
"And he doesn't want you to say that?"
"He says it's outside the scope of the show. At face value, it's a good stock."
"Is it?"
"Yes."
"And I assume you have proof — maybe something from the State Department — certifying that ISI is, at the very least, a threat they're taking very seriously and isn't just a fringe group of Looney Toon terrorists? And something certifying that they've got a direct link to these oil stocks?"
"They're dangerous, Don."
"So they're a terrorist organization? With links to the oil companies?"
"They're designated as an affiliate —"
"And Saudi Arabia is actually letting their companies buy oil from al Qaeda?"
"An affiliate, and its legal environment facilitates money laundering, and the splintering of private funding to rebel groups is only making them stronger."
It's not enough. "Sloan, come on, you know what I have to say. Until you can prove a link this is pretty tenuous. And Zane does kind of have a point about the scope of the show. It's geared toward investors. Can you cover the other stuff on your NewsNight segment, maybe something on the economics of terrorism? And we can do a feature on student-loan debt — that's the kind of stuff our audience would love."
She glares. "First, traitor."
"Hey, I think you should report him to HR for the Stephen Colbert line."
"Second, you think I should tell people to invest at four p.m., then tell them not to invest at eight? I'd lose credibility."
"Then you need to talk to Zane?"
"Don, can I — oh good, you're both here. Actually, are you ever apart?" Mac bounces into the room.
"I'm on the air for two hours a day, and he is not?" Sloan points out, slightly confused.
"And I stay two hours later to produce Elliot's show, and she does not," Don adds. It's definitely stretching truth quite a bit.
"That's a lie, Keefer. As you know from the fiasco with the Occupy the Rod up my Ass girl, we've been working on a highly sensitive story for the last several months."
"That's still going on?" he's a little amazed — he assumed the story had just fizzled out.
"Yes."
"You haven't said anything about it."
"I'm crafty, but nobody ever seems to think so," she sighs. "Anyways, I'd like for you both, plus Jim, to serve as the Red Team. I trust you immensely and think you're the right people for the job."
"Absolutely," Sloan says, as he echoes, "Of course."
"Great," she says. "The first meeting is at eleven today. I'd appreciate your discretion — we're not ready to tell anyone, including Elliot or Will."
"Will doesn't know what's going on?" Sloan asks.
"No, and I intend to keep it that way for some time longer." Mac heads towards the door. "Anyways. Thanks so much. I'll see you both at eleven."
Sloan turns toward him. "Was that really strange?"
He shrugs. "Guarantee it's not as strange as whatever we're about to walk into."
Two hours later, as he and Sloan are fact-checking reindeer and Mac and Jerry Dantana and Charlie try to convince them that U.S. Marines dumped a bunch of sarin on Pakistani civilians, he wishes that statement was a little less apt.
After the Red Team meeting it's one of those clusterfuck type of days where he barely see Sloan outside of half-watching her shows. After Right Now, he can't find her anywhere — not his office, or Mac's, or even her own. He remember when she first started at ACN, before she felt comfortable stealing his space and before Mac arrived, she liked the balcony. He tries that next, and see her sitting on the picnic table, her back to the door and her Red Team binder open on her lap.
"That whole out-like-a-lamb thing is bullshit," Don announces morosely, walking up to kick at the railing.
Sloan sighs and flips a page without looking up. "That refers to the weather not to —"
"Journalists accusing the government of murder by sarin? It's still pretty lionlike," he replies. Then, "You know, you really shouldn't be reading that in the office. People who shouldn't might see it."
"That's why I brought it out here," she smiles. "Ready to go?"
"Yeah," he says. It's nearly midnight. "Your place or mine?"
"Mmmmm… mine."
"I'm beginning to think you don't like my place."
"I like your place just fine."
"But?"
"There doesn't have to be a but."
"There wasn't. But —"
"Ah ha."
"Quiet, you. I was just going to say that you have more clothes at my place."
"And?"
She shrugs. "And I like your place just fine. I do, I really do. I think mine is a little nicer, though, objectively."
"Oh, you do?" he says, mostly teasing, as they grab their coats from her office.
"It's just, I decorated. And I have a nicer kitchen," she tries, tucking her tablet into her purse and turning to him.
"For all the cooking that we do?"
"We can go to your place. I really don't care. I just have the shirt I want to wear tomorrow at my place."
He swings an arm around her shoulder and kisses her temple. He's ragging her — her place is more spacious, her elevators run faster, and she's got sick views off Lower Manhattan. Plus, when they stay at hers, his place stays cleaner, and he has to pay the MerryMaids less. "Honestly? I don't care either."
She pokes him, hard, right in the soft spot under his rib cage, making him gasp in surprise. "Mean," she insists, then leans up to kiss the place where his jaw meets his neck. He loves when she's in flats (it's admittedly rare), when she's this tucked-in-able size.
Thirty minutes later, they're in bed, him with a cup of cocoa, her with tea, both reading through their binders. "Do you really think this is true?" she asks.
He flips away from the Hamni8 tweets. "What's here is … compelling."
"I'm not asking that. Step outside of the evidence. Apply logic. Does this make any sense?"
He shrugs. "I don't know enough yet. I do know, though, if we run this, we better be not only damn sure, but convinced that it's in the best interests of the country to share this."
"Yeah," she smacks the book shut and tosses it on the floor. "I'm not thinking about it anymore. Can I hit the light?"
He's about to say no — he needs to read everything for the sixth time — when he yawns. With a giggle, she jumps out of bed to turn off the lights, then kisses him, flops over, and falls fast asleep.
The next day he notices Sloan's show has started as he's flicking through wire reports and daily coverage to figure out what to present at the first Right Now rundown (in related news, he's running behind again). He hasn't seen her all day, so he turns up the volume to listen. She's going on about the European recession and labor strikes — basically, what he can infer is they're fucked. He's not really paying attention when she says, "Finally, let's turn to 'Watch That Stock.' Today, we're discussing two oil stocks that have performed exceptionally over the last several weeks. However, investors should be aware that their profitability could be due in part to the rise of a terrorist group in Syria."
Jesus Christ. His neck snaps up as she briefly details the relationship. "What the fuck?" he yells, throwing a pen in the direction of the TV.
"Everything OK?" Neal pops his head in.
"Yeah," he puts his head briefly in his hands before looking up. "Sloan just decided to cannibalize her career, no big deal."
"Did she start speaking Japanese again?"
"No."
"If that was survivable, this is too," Neal says helpfully, popping back out.
He's not going to get involved, since this is between Sloan and Zane, but he tunes his ears in for the argument. It starts at 2:32 as Zane's shouts emanate from the newsroom: "What the fucking fuck, Sloan?"
He's too far away to hear Sloan's response, but then Zane yells, "I don't fucking care! Keefer!"
For crying out loud. He steps out of his office, and Zane and Sloan, Zane looking apoplectic and Sloan looking stoney and rage-y, are standing right outside his door. He feigns surprise and shrugs his hands into his jeans pockets. "Oh. Hey Zane. Hey Sloan."
"Did you tell your girlfriend —"
"Leave Don the fuck out of this, and if you have a problem you talk to me instead of Don!" Sloan says.
"I'm only asking because every time you do shit like this, it turns out that Keefer is somehow the fuck involved." Don notices Charlie enter behind them and lean casually on a desk, a semi-interested look on his face.
"That is absolutely false; in fact, any time that you've gotten pissed at me Don has actually taken your side."
"Somehow, Keefer, you put shit in her head —"
"For the final time, Don didn't put anything in my head; he told me not to say it."
"For crying the fuck out loud, then, Sloan, when the hell are you going to listen to the goddamn professional EPs on shit like this?"
Now that pisses him off. He knows Sloan will make him regret it later, but he interrupts whatever she's about to say with, "OK, you know what, Zane, I don't know how many times she has to say that I didn't tell her to say that it'll take for you to believe her, and I don't know how many degrees she needs to earn until you actually learn that she's smarter than you and a better journalist than you are, but would you quit fucking talking to her like she is a child?"
"This is between me and my anchor —"
"Yeah, don't fucking pull that; you just bellowed my name for the entire goddamn floor to hear. And she's a lot better at dealing with your fucking bullshit than I am; I wanted to either punch you or report you to HR for the fucking Colbert thing."
"And I told you that it was none of your business," Sloan says. She desperately wants to take this out of the newsroom, and he can't blame her. But she also wants him out of this argument, and so he can't suggest moving it because then he'll continue his involvement.
"Sounds like it might be some of my business, though," Charlie says, leaning forward. Zane and Sloan notice him for the first time. They stare at each other, furious, and Don decides to take his opportunity.
"Wasn't there, but from what I gather Zane told Sloan that covering student loan debt would make her the 'Stephen Colbert of daytime cable news' — you know, the joke."
"Huh," Charlie says. "At any rate, this conversation absolutely needs to take place somewhere else. Sloan, Zane, do we need to have Don present at this somewhere else?"
"No," Sloan says vehemently.
"Alright. Sloan, I assume you have documentation of the whole oil-companies-are-funding-terrorists connections? To the extent that you alleged there was a connection?"
"Yup."
"Alright. Both of you in my office." They slink out, and Sloan tosses him a pissed-off look. He gets it; he's in trouble. He turns, running both hands through his hair, before retreating to his office.
He doesn't get a chance to watch her four o'clock, since he's in a rundown meeting for Right Now followed by the final rundown for News Night, and then has to hustle to the graphics department. He watches her segment on News Night, where she talks about John Carter, and she doesn't seem to want to murder anyone, which is good. After NewsNight, he can't find her, so right before Right Now he texts her to see if she's headed to one of their apartments. She doesn't reply.
He's walking into his office, trying to call her building to see if she's there and that's where he needs to go to apologize, when she says, "So Zane's been reassigned. He'll be producing the ten-to-noon hour. Julia Marconi is producing my show from now on."
He looks up. She's sitting, a glass of merlot in hand, at his desk chair. "Sloan. Christ. You …"
"Blindsided you? Yeah. Kinda like what you did today."
"Ok. Look. I'm sorry. I lost my temper."
"Christ, Don, I don't even know where to begin. Should I start with where you told Charlie about what Zane said, which I told you as my boyfriend and not as an ACN producer? Or should I start with where you got into an overprotective pissing contest with Zane about my career and my job, which I can handle by myself? Or, actually, maybe I want to go back to yesterday, when you didn't think I should run the story?"
"OK, fine," he says, grabbing his bag. "Can we go home to have this talk?"
"No, I kind of want to have it here," she says, emphatically hitting his desk with her pointer finger.
"OK, fine," he says, tossing down his bag. "Which fight do you want to have first? The one where I was an asshole boyfriend, the other one where I was an asshole boyfriend, or the third one where I was an asshole boyfriend?" They bicker, pretty frequently, but it always has the feeling of foreplay. This already isn't; he can almost feel his body bracing for an ugly fight.
She stares at him, disgusted. "Don't be flip."
"I'm serious! Where do you want to start, Sloan?"
"I really don't appreciate the attitude."
"Who the fuck are you, my third grade teacher? Fine, Sloan, let's start with me telling Charlie about the comment, which I think is the thing that's pissing you off the least."
"Fine, but let's throw you being a jackass on to the end!"
"And you being overly sensitive and stubborn about the entire damn thing! I'm sorry I told Charlie, I lost my temper. Zane treats you like shit, Sloan, and I know you can and prefer to handle it, but he pissed me off. And I'm sorry."
"That's it? That's what you have to say?"
"What else can I say?!" he yells.
"I don't know but it's not enough!" she yells. "I don't — I can't divide the arguments into the different times you pissed me off. They're all for the same reason. Do you respect me as a journalist? That's what all of these boil down to."
He's stunned. "How did we get from me being an asshole — and you going directly against my advice and the wishes of your producer — to me not respecting you as a journalist?"
She shrugs. "They're all about you not thinking I can handle myself as a journalist."
"Sloan. We've been dating for what, almost six months —"
"Four months-plus —"
"Whatever. We've been dating for four-months-plus, and I've known you for three years before that. I've known you through all your shows and all your time at ACN. You really think I don't respect you as a journalist?" He's trying to not yell, and he is failing epically.
"I think you think of me as an economist before a journalist."
"I think you think of yourself that way! You say I have two Ph.D.s at least twice a week. Of course I respect you as a journalist. It's bullshit to think otherwise. On the first two reasons why you're angry — I'm sorry for letting it slip with Charlie. I was pissed and Charlie asked. I know you told me that as a boyfriend and not a coworker, but he pissed me off. Which leads me to point two — I'm sorry for getting in the middle of that fight with Zane."
"You don't get to fight these battles for me! I don't interfere when you have trouble with Elliot or Mac! I'm going to get to the top without you paving the way!"
"Right, which is why I'm saying I'm sorry."
"But that's why I don't think you respect me as a journalist! If you did, you would let me handle this on my own."
"You know what, Sloan, I respect you plenty as a journalist — and I don't think that would make one damned bit of difference. When I said that I loved you, I meant it. I'm not going to just … stand by, as someone is a jackass to you. He doesn't get to say those things to you. I know you can handle it, but you shouldn't even have to put up with it in the first place. And me getting pissed about that, it's just kinda part and parcel." He realizes they're both shouting, borderline screaming, and hopes that everyone else has gone home. "I respect you, and I recognize when others don't, and that pisses me off."
"Still not your battle to go all Neanderthal on."
"You're not remotely happy that now you're working with Julia?"
"That's besides the point! You respect me more than him, but you don't respect me enough to let me handle it. You didn't think I could handle it?"
"Of course I thought you could — Sloan, I wouldn't want to be with you if I didn't respect you as a journalist."
"Really? Because you were with Maggie for a hell of a lot longer than we've been together."
That just took this argument to a whole nother direction. "I thought we were passed this? I thought we discussed this a couple weeks ago along with the whole Topher thing!"
"We did. I don't care and I'm not jealous or worried, but I do think that's evidence against your point that 'you wouldn't be with me if you didn't respect me as a journalist.'"
"Come on, that was a completely different relationship — which you know,because you were there!" They're both positively roaring right now.
"Fine. Then why didn't you think I should run the story?"
"Are you fucking kidding me?! Because it was risky and it was stupid! You didn't have enough of a link, which you knew, because what you ran with was damned qualified and tenuous, so that State wouldn't come looking for your head on a spike! You ran that just to spite Zane and maybe me! I would have said that second part ten minutes ago but now I'm not sure. Do you respect me as a journalist, Sloan? I've been doing this for twelve years, I went to school for this, I worked hard. I'm the fucking youngest EP in prime time, Sloan, I know what the hell I am talking about. When you ask me for advice, if you respect me as a journalist, you would at least fucking take my thoughts on why you shouldn't run a lightly substantiated, highly provocative story seriously. You should've listened to me. You alleged that one of America's top allies in the war on terror is enabling a group that is more dangerous than al Qaeda, and that a bloodthirsty dictator who is overseeing a genocide in Syria is a better alternative than them. On a two o'clock financial show. You are fucking lucky that Zane had a breakdown, because otherwise Charlie would have had your ass on a platter!"
She stands. "Will would have run it."
"You're not Will!" he yells back.
She's shocked, and he is too. She grabs her jacket. "I'm going home. To my apartment. I suggest you do the same."
He tries to remember the last time they spent the night apart, and can't. Maybe January, right before he got that cold? "Are you actually —"
"Absolutely," she replies, slamming his door.
Finding nothing else to do, he throws his cell phone against the wall.
Twenty minutes later, he's in Hang Chew's, the damned binder in front of him and a drink in hand. He's combing through the files when Mac comes in.
"You're alone?" she asks, taking a seat.
"I am," he sighs, petulant and angry and self-pitying. "This is what I do now, I drink alone at bars at night."
Mac gives him a strange look — since that is the opposite of how he's spent any night the last four-months-plus — but refuses to indulge. "See, men can do that, with no stigma attached. Women —"
For crying out loud. "Women can vote, and your vote counts the same as my vote. I'm really supposed to worry about a stigma?"
She shakes her head. "Oh, Don. Don Don. Don. Are you happy with that name?"
"Pretty happy. Never really thought about it." He wants to deflect. "How'd it go in Maryland?"
"He confirmed," she replies, apprising him.
Well fuck. He puts his pen down. "Will he do it on camera?"
She shrugs. "We'll find out tomorrow." Chelsea comes up. "Hey Chelsea, what do you say?"
"Hey Mac. You alone?"
"Don't stigmatize her," he warns, returning to his work.
"Where's the gang?" Chelsea asks.
"Jim and Neal are on a double date, Will is having a quiet night at home with Mrs. Macbeth, and Sloan — I have no idea where Sloan is. Don?"
Fucking hell. He studies his papers intently. "We had a fight, so Sloan is at her apartment and I am here."
Mac does a double take. "Was it a bad fight?"
He shrugs. "Well, she is at home, and I am here, so I would say it was not a good fight."
"What happened?"
"She went against my advice as a producer, which pissed off Zane, also a producer. Zane then had a meltdown in the middle of the newsroom, started getting … snide with her. I flipped at him; Charlie interfered; found out what Zane had said to her; demoted Zane. While Sloan has not enjoyed working with Zane for the last year and a half, this is all my fault. Because I don't respect her as a journalist, apparently, so now she's pissed at me."
She's quiet. "Well, we're both going to need more drinks. Chelsea!"
"You're not going to …"
"What?"
"I don't know, yell at me on behalf of the sisterhood?"
"Why would I do that?"
"Because Sloan's pissed at me."
"Don, do you respect her as a journalist?"
"Of course I do!"
"I know that. And she does too, or else she wouldn't be dating you. You two had a fight. It was bound to happen sometime," she's quiet. "You're both smart, you're both passionate, you both have incredibly strong convictions. You'll cool off, and tomorrow you'll fix it."
He's skeptical. "She's really pissed, Mac."
"Big deal. She'll get over it, and so will you," she takes a sip as she studies him. Then she pivots. "Do you fully trust Jerry Dantana?"
He sighs. He's been struggling with this ever since Sloan asked him to apply logic last night. "Why wouldn't I?" he asks.
"No reason, I was just curious."
"But there's a reason you're asking."
"They're really isn't."
"I'll tell you what it is."
"It was just curiosity."
"It's because he's not Jim." He takes a sip of his Scotch and smiles. "Jerry has committed the crime of not being Jim Harper." He knew his crimes against Mac are larger, but not-being-Jim was certainly one of them. Before Mac left, he had known her and Brian and Will pretty well — he worked at Newsweek with Brian before going to ACN's politics desk before going to Will's show when Mac took it over — and he'd tried to stay out of taking a side when it all went to hell. When she returned and had Jim, her guy, in tow, it had initially bugged him, but he'd long gotten over it. "You know how long it took you to trust me?"
"How long?"
"I'll let you know when it happens."
"I completely trust you."
"Do you?" He normally would assume this — he and Mac have been good, though changed, for a while — but the whole fight with Sloan has thrown him.
"With my life, Don," she smiles, confused at his insecurity.
"Thank you, that's nice to hear."
"Why are you so … rattled tonight?"
"Rattled?"
"So you got in a fight with Sloan, big deal. Surely you two — oh."
"What?"
"You haven't gotten in a fight before, have you?"
He shrugs. "We've had disagreements. We do that a lot, actually. I forgot to tell her when I was sick in January; that made her mad. She never wants to wear socks to bed even though she's always freezing, which is annoying. Every time she burns one of my pans trying to make grilled cheese there's some yelling. And I apparently can't recycle worth shit."
"But never a fight-fight?"
He shrugs. "We're not you and Will! We go to work, then we split takeout, bicker-flirt about something stupid, and fall asleep."
"You and Maggie used to have a storm-out-of-the-office fight at least once every three weeks. You measured how long the two of you were good in days."
"OK, in what ways have I ever indicated that I want to repeat that with Sloan?"
"I didn't say you did —"
"Because I don't. This … Sloan … No offense to Maggie, but this is entirely different. I don't want to have an epic blowout every three weeks. I don't want to have that fight to begin with!"
"You know sometimes you have to fight in a normal, healthy relationship, right?" Mac asks. "Oh my god, you don't know. Fighting is normal, Don. It's good; it means you're not afraid to be honest with each other."
"We're not … afraid to be honest with each other, we … Sloan and I don't really fight," he admits. "I just —"
"Oh my god," Mac says.
"What?"
"This is ... it for you, isn't it?"
"What?"
"Sloan. You. This is it, for you, isn't it?" she cocks her head. "And you're freaking out about this fight because you are used to, you know, whatever you were doing with Maggie, and Delilah and Ellie and — what the fuck was that girl named, the one you were dating when I hired you?"
He laughs, remembering. "Kortnee. WIth two e's. And a K."
"Oh god, yes. Kortnee. But this is it, isn't it? And you don't know how to handle the fight without a breakup or going on break or doing something stupid like asking her to move in with you."
He shrugs. It's too early to think of 'it,' even though he's met both her parents, which is farther than he's ever gotten before. "We've been dating for four months," he finally protests feebly.
"You've been friends for three years, it's a little different," she pauses. "Have you told her you love her?"
"I — yeah. A couple of weeks ago."
"That's great, Don!" she grins. "That is so great. She loves you too, you know."
"Yeah. Which makes this worse."
"Don't be glum. You're both trying harder than I've seen you work to make this work, and it's paying off."
"Is it?"
"Of course it is. Seriously. Have you ever seen Sloan be this open? She was completely zipped-up for the first year I knew her, and I'm her self-appointed best friend. But she's being open with you. And you're both happy, which I've never seen. You two are good — just don't be afraid to argue. You're solid, so it's OK to disagree. You'll work this out. Why don't you go over to her place and talk this out?"
He looks at his watch. Sloan is vigilant about her sleep, and she's definitely asleep. "Tomorrow. I'll only piss her off more if I go over now."
"Well," Mac shrugs. "You two have all the … fundamentals, and this is something forgivable. She knows you respect her, and she has to know you have a point with the Syria story. And you know not to get in the middle of her work battles, and not to fly off the handle at anyone who insults her. She's a big girl, our Sloan. And most importantly, you both think this relationship is important, alright? That's the most important thing — to know you're solid and be confident, but not to get lazy and lose respect for the relationship."
He turns. "When did you become such a …"
"Rally girl?" she smiles. "When the cause is right and just? Always. Now come on, it looks like you need more alcohol."
They move to a corner then, to discuss slavery and whether or not Mac broke one of God's rules by cheating on Will, and how to handle the Genoa case. He and Mac get each other on kind of a basic level, are both innately pessimistic, in a way that few others are.. He's absolutely unconvinced that running the story is the right decision. They finally depart around 2 a.m., with Mac telling him, "Learn from mine and Will's mistakes, Donny." He's pretty sure that is actually at least 60 percent of the reason she cares at all what happens to him and Sloan — she's atoning for her mistake, in any and every way that she can, because Will won't forgive her. He's so tired and strung out from the fight he decides to head to ACN instead of his place. He's deliberately choosing not to overanalyze that decision.
He wakes up just after six with a hangover and a crick in his neck, and decides to fuck it. He hops on the 2 Train and heads to her place. On the two-block walk from the subway to her place, he stops to buy flowers, because it's always worked for him in the past. He knocks instead of using his key, and while it takes her a long moment to come to the door, she eventually opens it.
"Don why are knock — better question, why are you in the same clothes you were wearing yesterday?" she's in one of his shirts and his boxers, which he takes as a good sign. "And you brought flowers? Don," she sounds disappointed, but leaves the door open as she walks back into her apartment.
"What?" he says, following her into the kitchen. She flips both the TV and coffeemaker on. "I brought the flowers to apologize."
"Don, I don't ever want to be one of those girlfriends who extorts presents out of you after a fight. It's an archaic ritual associated with outdated gender norms, and most importantly, what does it solve? You want to prove you're sorry? Tell me and show me, don't … buy me." She toggles the TV to ACN Morning. Will is there? Strange.
"OK … fine," he says uncertainly, dumping the bouquet of lilies into the trash.
"Don!" she says. "That's just wasteful."
"Sloan, I'm perfectly willing to call bringing you flowers to apologize an outdated gender norm, but you can't have it both ways," he says, beginning to feel impatient again. "Either you accept the flowers or you don't, but you can't dismiss the sentiment and keep the flowers."
"Fine. I'm sorry for yelling at you for bringing flowers. It was completely unnecessary, and please don't ever do it again. However," she shakes grime off the petals, "thank you, and these are pretty."
"Noted," he says. "I'm trying here, alright?"
"Me too," she says quietly. "Why are you wearing the same clothes as yesterday?"
"I spent the night in my office," he admits.
She rolls her eyes. "Really, Don? Your back is not great. That's a stupid way to to prove —"
"I wasn't trying to prove anything, and good God you think highly of yourself," he rebukes lightly. He knows she's mostly deflecting any attention and any evidence that someone cares about her, because to her, him admitting that he had a shitty night due to their fight feels like she's being selfish: She doesn't feel like she deserves nice things, and that includes his affection. "Mac got me drunk at Hang Chew's and I didn't feel like stumbling home." He pauses. "And yes, I didn't really want to be around all your crap. You have a lot of it, you know? Hair ties and sprays and lotions and teas and vegetables," he faux-shudders. "I didn't think I would sleep well. Turns out I was fucked either way."
She slides a cup of black coffee his way and busies herself adding almond milk to her own. "I didn't sleep so well either."
"Listen. I'm sorry, alright? I didn't mean to interfere with your fight with Zane. You didn't need me to, and I should've excused myself before I stooped to his level. And when you tried to talk to me about it, I was an even bigger dick, and was disrespectful. And for that, I'm sorry."
"Thank you," she says, then takes a deep breath. "And I shouldn't've said you didn't respect me as a journalist. That was going for the jugular."
"Thank you," he says. They're both quiet for a minute as they figure out what to say next they've apologized for the most egregious things, but not for the issues at the root of the argument.
"Sloan, I —" he starts at the same time she says, "Alright, but —". They both giggle a little, and he says, "You first."
"I said — and implied — a lot of hurtful stuff. Which I didn't mean. You're great at your job, for instance. And that stuff about Maggie was completely out of line, too. But pissed as I am about you getting into the argument with Zane — don't think I'm not pissed, but putting that aside — the stuff about the story … That really got to me."
"Sloan. Again. I shouldn't've taken Zane's bait. And I shouldn't've told Charlie about the Colbert comment. And for the record, I absolutely respect you as a journalist. And the fact that you're an economist too? That's just fucking impressive. But c'mon, Sloan. You gotta see why I thought — and still think — you running with that comment, on that show, was a bad idea."
"It's right."
"Then run it in NewsNight and ignore the segment on the financial news. But whether it's right or wrong is beside the point. If this Genoa story is right, do you think we should run it? Tell everyone in the Middle East that the U.S. dumps sarin on civilians? It signs the death warrant for every American soldier. Did you think about what this means for our allies? If this is true it's way bigger than this oil stock. You have to know that. And if you don't, just trust me on this one. I trust you on stock market questions and — is Will throwing a football into a light tree?" The fucking hell?
Sloan whirls, then hits the remote to replay. They watch Will don the stupid helmet, hear what's-her-name remind Will that it's for cancer research, watch him throw the football into the light. They watch it again. And again.
"He had a baseball scholarship. He can definitely make that stupid hoop," Sloan says. She covers her mouth with both hands.
"He looks like Dukakis riding a tank," Don says, his eyes bulging. "Now that? That is a fucking producorial snafu. I wouldn't let you do that."
She laughs then, her giggles breaking over him like wind chimes, and she takes his face in both hands. "I know that. I trust you. I was just mad," she kisses him deeply.
"We good?" he checks. Suddenly, he cares so much less about whether she was listening to him or he was right. He actually couldn't give a fuck if he was right or not, as long as they're alright.
"Yeah," she affirms. "I could've done the segment another way; you could've handled Zane differently. We're both sorry, we both know we fucked up. We'll — we'll probably do it again, but we work together and spend every night together and so duh, of course this happens sometimes. We won't hold it against each other, and we'll talk it out. Like we said we would in January. Deal?"
He kisses her again, one hand snaking to the small of her back and holding her there. "Deal."
"What time do you have to be in?"
"I dunno. Eleven?"
"God I'm so jealous your schedule," she groans. He palms one hand over her stomach to turn that groan into a moan.
"It's not even seven. Surely you can wait until eight," he suggests, lifting her shirt up. She bites her lip and he knows he's persuaded her. He starts shuffling toward the bedroom immediately.
"So Mac got you drunk at Hang Chew's? What did you guys talk about?" Sloan asks later as she emerges from the shower. He is still in bed, because he is fucking exhausted (in both the good and not-so-good ways).
"Genoa, mostly. And you and Will, of course."
"What did you tell Mac?" She runs a comb through her hair.
"That we got into a fight," he shrugs. "She had relationship advice, mostly predicated on her and Will."
"You know, I walked into his office yesterday and he was watching a secret focus group he commissioned. And then he does this. I mean, what the hell?"
"It's not that surprising. He sees the numbers, worries they don't like him, and does something he thinks will make him more likable."
"And after Mac left, the audience became his imaginary friends and now he's worried they're leaving him," she puts together.
"Basically," he shrugs. "Money on Nina somehow being involved." He doesn't like that woman.
"You're probably right," she says. She pulls on a purple drapey sweater. It's spring. Why is she always freezing? She leans over and kisses him. "Mac helped you fix us; I'm going to help him fix … himself."
That's alarming. "What are you doing and saying?"
"Will and I have this big brother-little sister dynamic. So I'm going to go kick his ass."
He laughs, because he knows when it's not a battle worth fighting. "You mind if I stay here and sleep?"
"Absolutely not. Aspirin in the bathroom. If your back hurts." She kisses him again and gets up to leave.
"Sloan," he calls, and she turns. He's groggy and his head is on her pillow. "I love you. I do. I really, really mean that."
She smiles, one of those too-big and too-bright awed smiles. "I love you too," she says. Then she's gone.
He manages to grab another two hours of sleep and a hot shower before going in, and he feels like a new person. The newsroom is buzzing about Will's tour de force, but he manages to duck it as he escapes to his office.
He can't avoid it coming to find him, though. Sometime after the NewsNight rundown and lunch, he looks up and sees Will in his doorway. "Hello?" he says cautiously. "Come on in."
"Thanks," Will sits down. "How's your day?"
"Better than yours, I'd guess. You had to put the helmet on?"
He shrugs. "Your other half compared me to Dukakis on a tank."
Hey. "I said that first!"
"It wasn't exactly original; don't get your panties in a twist," Will says snippily.
"What's up, Will?"
"I heard you got Zane fired?"
"Zane got himself demoted by being an ass. But yes, I may have … inadvertently expedited it."
"Bet Sloan loved that."
"And I loved her asking for advice and then ignoring it," he says, then shrugs. "We've worked through it."
"Charlie gave you the speech already, the kneecaps speech, about your intentions, right?"
"What? Yes. He gave me a big-brother speech. After Valentine's Day." God, he's never going to live that down.
"I would say Charlie is more inappropriate uncle than older brother."
"Same thing."
"No," Will says piercingly. "They're not."
He can't help but feel he's fucked.
Will continues. "When the two of you started dating, I was happy with it. Hell, I even encouraged it. Sloan needed to have some fun, Mac seemed to think it was a good match, and whatever the hell happened with Maggie was actually, in the end, only about 50 percent your fault. Which is pretty good. Plus you had this stupid look on your face every time you thought she wasn't looking and I liked that. I think it's important that the guy is a little bit more into the girl at the beginning."
"That's not old fashioned or anything."
"Not right now; I'm speechifying."
"Alright, continue."
"Anyways. You had a stupid look on your face and I liked that."
"Pretty sure I still have a stupid look on my face when I look at her."
"You do," Will confirms. "And I've stuck up for you, just so you know. When she's been high-strung about stuff, I've taken your side."
"Thanks?"
"You're welcome. Anyways, when I asked Sloan if you guys got into a fight over the Zane thing, she said yes. Then she said that you guys made up. And that she cared more about the two of you getting back to normal than she did that you interfered in her career."
"She said that?"
"I'm paraphrasing."
"Well what did she say?"
"She said it was more important that the two of you work through a fight than either of you win the fight."
"That sounds healthy."
"It sounds a lot like love."
"OK, and that's a bad thing?"
"I don't know. You tell me."
He's confused. "What the hell do you want me to tell you?"
Will shifts. "During the what, eighteen months you dated Maggie, you broke up maybe, what six times? Eight? Cumulative time together was maybe eleven, twelve months? Before that, you exclusively dated women who purposefully misspelled their America's Sweetheart first names."
"Hey now —"
"Juli needs an e on the end, Don. Tiffani is spelled with a y."
"Fine, yes, I dated between the ages of sixteen and thirty-four."
"Not just you. Sloan was engaged to that jackass, and dated several more of them."
"Do you have a point, Will? Believe me, Sloan and I have actually discussed all this. Does it matter how many people we dated before we started dating each other, as long as we're not still dating other people as we date each other?" He can't believe Will is actually going out of his own way to meddle in a coworker's life, but it's not surprising that it's for Sloan, when he thinks about it.
"Where do you see this going? She's in deep. Very deep. I don't think I realized that until today."
Ah-ha. "And if I hurt her you'll break my kneecaps too?"
"Yes. And cut off your balls."
"Look. I don't know how many people I have to defend this to. But Sloan … I don't plan on hurting her, because I don't plan on breaking up with her. And I don't plan on treating her badly. I don't know what I need to do to convince you I'm a good guy —"
"I've always liked you, Don."
"There's a difference between putting up with me as a journalist and … respecting me enough as a guy not to come into my office and threaten my kneecaps and testicles. Listen," he shifts in his seat, "I get why, after watching the train wreck with Maggie and, you know, general things from 2006 to 2011, how you might want to go all surly big-brother. But you also have to give me that we've both changed a lot, especially me. And that this is working well. Besides, you of all people absolutely have to acknowledge that one person can completely change your relationship habits."
Will sits back. "For the record, I do like you. As a person and a journalist. If that's not apparent through my gruff and no-nonsense exterior."
"Thank you."
"This is a big risk, Donny."
He sighs. "I know."
"You love her, too."
"I do," he sighs, and looks at his clock. "Anything else? Or are my kneecaps safe for the time being?"
"They're good," Will rises, then turns. "You ever heard of a Goldlilocks planet?"
He shakes his head. An A- in physics was why he was salutatorian, not valedictorian. "No, why? Is one about to crash into earth?"
"No. Just … ask Sloan to explain them sometime." Will exits.
Alright, then. Don leans back to finish answering his emails and compiling his first run sheet. He notices that her show is starting, and turns up the volume.