Next chapter here! I found this one fun, especially in its use of Charlie, Reese, and Will. Also, it's a two-second aside - I mention a brother of Reese's - but I want to state for the record that this nonexistent brother has an entire backstory in my head: Tough youth + completely uninterested in the family business means he's out of the line of succession. But he's awesome, and played by BJ Novak, because BJ Novak + Chris Messina would be delightful. Then I realized that BJ Novak is appearing in the last season, so I can only hope for this. But that would be the dream. Anyways, let me know what you think!

February

"Sloan Sabbith, have I got an idea for you," Reese proclaims, entering her office with a broad smile.

Oh God. It is too early for this. "What can I do for you, Reese?"

"Nice flowers," he says, momentarily sidetracked as he gestures to the oversized, expensive bouquet of calla lilies, gardenias, and red tulips that Don had had delivered that morning for Valentine's Day. Somehow, he remembered her disdain for roses. "Who're they from?"

"Secret admirer, I guess," she shrugs. "What's up Reese?"

"My mother's annual benefit for Mt. Sinai hospital is later this month. As you know, it's a cause very dear to her heart, as they cared for my father during the final years of his life."

"I saw. Will's purchased a table and he's invited me to the benefit," Sloan says. "I'll be there."

"Wonderful. Then you know that as part of the event, my brother and I organize a silent auction every year to raise funds. Last year, we raised more than 50,000 dollars to benefit the Lansing Liver Cancer Center."

"Congratulations. I know you and Reed worked hard on that."

"Thank you, we did. This year we feel it would be a gesture of good faith if ACN talent donated an item to the auction. No pressure, of course, just a thought. A wondering, even."

She nods. "I could donate a copy of my book?"

"Money Problems in Pre-Nazi Germany? I'm not sure that'll sell."

She stands, because she has things to do. "Hyperinflation in the Weimar Republic. I would sign it."

"I was thinking a date."

"A date? Reese, you're a nice guy, but you're my boss's boss. I don't think that would be appropriate," she deflects.

"Ha, ha. You're funny. See that sense of humor would go over well in a situation where you're on a date with someone you bought the privilege in an auction."

"I hope you know how absolutely sexist that sounds. Women are not chattel, Reese," her voice rises with each word. "This might be why only models and dancers date you."

"I've never found that particular habit of mine to be problematic," he grins. "So it's settled, then. You'll auction off a date."

"No, it's not 'settled then,'' she says. "I'm not —" she pauses, trying to figure out how to explain herself without giving away her relationship with Don. "Not comfortable with that proposition."

It's decidedly tricky to secret-date a coworker. It's definitely hot (with all the sneaking around and occasional makeout sessions in darkened offices), but mostly, it's a logistical nightmare: They can't come in together, one of them circles the block after leaving, they resort to playing footsy instead of sitting next to each other at meetings. It's a little absurd, since plenty of people know they're dating — Elliot, Will, Mac, even Maggie, which means that Neal and Jim and most of the NewsNight staff definitely do — but they haven't told Charlie or HR (they're fine, as long as they report it, and they haven't reported it) and now they've been dating for a while so it's awkward. And while it's where she lives and owns property, she's not good at awkward.

"It'd be fun," Reese cajoles, then flags down a passing Charlie. "Yo! Charlie. I think Sloan should donate a date to the silent auction for the Lansing Liver Cancer Center benefit. Don't you think that would be great?"

"I do think that would be nice," Charlie says. "Will is donating a round of golf, Elliot is donating his courtside Knicks tickets —"

"I said I would donate my book," she says.

"Poor Sad Germans and How Their Money Problems Caused World War Two? C'mon, Sloan, I think a date would do a little better. You're a pretty girl."

"Ok, actually everything about what you just said was sexist and terrible," she says. She can feel a headache coming on. "And the book is Hyperinflation in the Weimar Republic. And it's an excellent book, and got excellent reviews in the New Yorker and the American Journal of Economics when it came out. And you know that."

"It'll be fun," Charlie says. "Yo, Don! Over here."

And the situation has officially gone to hell.

"What's up?" Don says suspiciously. "What am I walking into?"

"Don, Charlie and I think that Sloan offering a date through the silent auction at the benefit next month would be a great idea. We think it would generate a lot of money for needed cancer research."

"Ok," Don says slowly. "Why am I over here?"

"Sloan doesn't think it's a good idea. And you two are friends, right?" Reese asks.

Sloan wants to laugh. Or cry.

"We've known each other a while, yeah," Don says with an impressively straight face. "We hang out sometimes, grab a drink. Sloan, do you think we're friends?" His lips curl into a tiny smirk, and she wants to drag him into a utility closet and take his pants off, now.

"Not sure, really," she teases right back. "I think we'd have to hang out a few more times for that label to qualify. You busy after work?"

"Ok, cut the crap, you two," Charlie says. "Don, you need to tell her this is a great idea. Sloan's beautiful, accomplished woman —"

"Agreed," Don says.

"—And any man in New York would be lucky to go on a date with her —"

"Also, agreed," Don says, and his voice makes Sloan's toes curl.

"—And so she should do this."

Don raises his eyebrows. "Yeah, I've worked with the women in this office for, God, way too many years now. I'm not telling any of them to do anything." He starts to leave. "Good luck convincing her, though."

Sloan turns to Reese and Charlie triumphantly. "I'll donate my book, and a chance to read the stocks on my show," she smiles. "Now, I have a show to do. If you need anything else, you know where to find me."

Hours later, after Will's show, she's lounging in the armchair in her office, reading headlines from Japan on her iPad and drinking a glass of wine as she surreptitiously waits for Don to finish work so they can argue about where to spend the night again. They do that a lot. "Hey," he says, popping his head in the door.

"Hey," she says, angling her face up for a kiss. He complies, pecking her briefly, before sitting in her desk chair. "Thanks for taking my side in the date-auction debate."

He laughs. "I wasn't exactly going to encourage you to do it."

"And thank you for the flowers," she says. She decides he's too far away, so she stands up, walks around, and leans against her desk in front of him. "I'm sorry we're not doing something more exciting tonight." It was her decision not to do anything, and on one hand she's kind of proud that they're at the point where they can honestly be blase about Valentine' Day. On the other hand, it's Valentine's Day and they're at work and she still feels a bit morose.

"Mmm, I get to spend the night with you. That's enough for me. But wait till you see what I have planned for this weekend," he says, sitting forward and sliding his hands from the hollows of her knees up her thighs.

"Oooh, can I have a clue?" she teases back, looping her hands around his neck. "What should I wear?"

"Well, you know that black dress I really like?" he asks. "The one with the no-back and the lace?"

"Yeah?" she says, as he kisses her neck.

"Wear that," he suggests between draws on her neck. "And those heels. That make your legs look a mile long. You probably won't be wearing either for very long, but do it. Wear those."

"Alright," she laughs, and they're making out. It's a little reckless, in her office, before his show, but it's Valentine's Day and it's been a fucking long day and god, she really likes him. She slides into the chair, straddling his lap, and he plants his feet so they don't lose their balance and tip over.

"Sabbith, I've been thinking about the — argh!" Charlie yells. "What the everloving hell?"

As soon as he had entered, Sloan had shifted toward the door; when she shifted her weight, Don pushed them forward to prevent them from falling over; with that momentum, Sloan clutched onto him awkwardly around the shoulders; he then tried to hold her to keep her from falling. They both end up tumbling out of the seat, and he manages to clutch her and not fall completely on his ass. Limbs are everywhere, but it's not exactly her most graceful moment. "Charlie!" she yells, then tries to extract herself with dignity. "God. You could knock, you know."

Don jumps up behind her. "Hello sir," he says quickly.

"Sir? You're sir-ing him right now?"

Don shrugs. "I thought I'd give it a try. He's gonna yell, Sloan. He's going to yell a lot."

"This is a workplace!" Charlie starts with. "A PG workplace. That was skirting with an R rating, young lady."

"The hell? Young lady? What about him!?" Her mother had had a better reaction when she walked in on them making out.

"What the fuck were you two doing?" Charlie yelled again.

Don stares at him. "OK, I get that you're startled but you do know what that was right?"

"KEEFER!"

"Not helpful? OK," Don says. "I was kissing her."

"Really? I couldn't tell."

"Ok, either you want him to spell things out or you don't, Charlie," Sloan says. "We were kissing. Because it's late, and it's Valentine's Day, and my boss tried to auction me off to the highest bidder today, but mostly because we wanted to. And I'm sorry that you walked in; that was not … great."

"How long have you been wanting to kiss her?" Charlie demands, looking straight at Don. Christ. She imagines that her own dad meeting Don would go over much more smoothly than this.

"The answer is kind of pathetic so I'm gonna take the Fifth," Don says.

"Really?" Sloan smiles.

"Yes," he says, confused. "What? You know this. Stop trying to be cute," he fake-grouses at her and she smiles even wider.

"We've been dating since mid-November," she says to Charlie. "Right before Thanksgiving, technically."

"Right after, our first date was right after Thanksgiving," Don corrects.

"I'm going by the first time we —" she says, mostly for Charlie's discomfort.

"Still here, Sabbith!" he yells.

"Right. So that's part of the reason why I didn't want to auction off a date. I also thought it was demeaning. That was the critical part."

"Three months?"

"Or two, if you count like Don."

"You've been dating for two or three months? And have just been … sneaking around?"

"Not sneaking around. Just not … not sneaking around," Don explains lamely.

"I told Will and Mac, but that's it," she says.

"I told Elliot, and Maggie figured it out."

"So that means probably at least a few other people know, yeah?" she asks Don, bantering for Charlie's sake.

"Probably, yeah," he smiles back.

"You two are a regular Burns and Allen," Charlie grumbles. "So you just decided to not tell … me? Is that it?"

"No, Charlie. Not at all," she says. That had nothing to do with it, and she hopes she hasn't hurt his feelings. "We just … We didn't want to … figure this out in front of everyone. And to keep it, you know, professional at work."

"That display was real professional," he says. "The most professional thing I've ever seen. For crying out loud, Mac and Will behave better!"

"We thought we were alone," she rebuts. "And that is false. The Mac and Will thing. And kind of offensive."

"So I guess you have it all figured out then?" Charlie asks sarcastically.

"Not — entirely," Don admits. "But I think we …"

"We're working on it," she says, her face drawn but resolute. "Babe, you need to go get ready for Elliot's show, don't you?" she asks. She rarely uses babe, or any term of endearment (and "honey" and "dear" are exclusively reserved for sarcasm) but she feels it's important right now, for Charlie to hear. For legitimacy.

"I do," he says, looking at Charlie. "Is it OK if I go?"

Charlie nods. Don evaluates him, then leans over and gives Sloan a peck on the cheek, which she leans in to, eyes still trained on Charlie.

Charlie looks at her after Don leaves. "You sure you know what you're doing, Sloan?" he asks, lips pursed as he waits for her answer.

"No," she answers frankly. "But I know that I want to be figuring it out with Don."

He looks at the bouquet on her desk. "He get you those?"

"Yes," she says.

"Those are very nice," he says before walking out.

She's confused about what's happening, so she heads into Will's office. He's reading a newspaper and smoking, and she goes straight for his booze cart. "You want any?" she asks, pouring herself two fingers.

"I'm meeting Nina in thirty minutes, why are you drinking my booze, Sloan?"

"So Don and I were … in my office, and Charlie … walked in on us."

"I assume you weren't just talking to him?" she whimpers and sits, pressing the cool glass against her forehead. "You weren't having sex on your desk were you? Because that's a new low, even for you."

"What's my current low?" she asks, not looking up.

"This moment," he says. "So Charlie walked in on you … in a compromised position? And now you want to gossip about whether or not you've lost credibility or if Charlie's mad at you and whether or not Don is freaking out and what that means for your relationship?" Will says snarkily.

"All of the above?" she says.

"Can't you go find MacKenzie for this?"

"Will, you're supposed to be my big brother. You said. This is an older-brother thing. You have to help me get out of trouble with dad."

Will pauses. "You and Don, it's … going alright, right?"

She shrugs with two hands. "I guess. Sure."

"And you two are getting along and he's met your mother and you seem to want to keep dating him for at least a little bit longer?"

"Yes?" she says, suddenly unsure of her answer.

"If you want it to work, then why haven't you told anyone?"

"I told you!"

"Gee thanks, because I really wanted to be dragged into this. If you and Don were walking down the hallway and ran into someone from dayside that you knew and Don didn't, how would you introduce him? Would you call him your boyfriend or would you call him the executive producer of Right Now?" She's silent, because she doesn't know. "If you two were out to dinner and a source came by, would you say, this is my boyfriend, or would you say, this is Don, who works at my network?" she's silent again, because she's not sure. "If Reese asks you to auction off a date, would you —"

"OK, I see your point," she interrupts. "I'm not the type of person to stand at the top of the stairs and go Hey everybody! Just so everyone's on the same page, Don and I are dating!"

"Right, which is why you have to be the one who says or does something."

"What do you mean?"

"It's pretty clear that, beyond your preference for keeping things private, you want this to be something different than what he and Maggie were."

"He wants that too!" she starts.

"Maybe, but at the end of the day, he wants you to be happy with the decision. He doesn't care who knows. Christ, have you seen the way that kid looks at you? You're delusional if you don't think that. And you don't want to go public for a lot of reasons. One of those is that you're private but another is that he had a relationship play out in public that a lot of people gossiped about, a relationship where he didn't always come off great, and that hit close to home for you since once upon a time, you were engaged to a coworker and then he cheated on you with another coworker. And it's that memory, I think, more than anything else, that's freaking you out." Will picks up his pen again. "You want low-key, fine. You agree not to fight in the newsroom, thank you and hallelujah. But you keep saying he's a good guy, and I think you're right — I've thought that since he was my producer —"

"No you haven't."

"I've thought he was a good producer since he was my producer, and I've thought he was a good guy since about five minutes after he stopped being my producer. Who cares what I think, Sloan? My point is, you keep saying he's a good guy, and since being with you, he's actually trying to be better. But right now you're too scared to tell people because you're afraid that once it's out there, if it goes wrong, then everyone knows you failed. You either don't trust him, don't have confidence in yourself, or don't have faith in the relationship. Or all three, I don't know. But if you think it's going to work and you want it to work, you need to quit fucking around."

She smiles and stands. She feels better. "Thanks bro. You have a whole table at the Lansings' thing, right?"

He raises an eyebrow and sits back expectantly. "I do."

"Can I reserve one of the tickets for Don, my boyfriend?"

Will smiles. "I'd already saved a ticket for him."

She wanders through the halls till she gets to the control room. Don's running the broadcast, so she leans against the back row of computers and waits. He raises his eyebrows in acknowledgement, and she smiles.

At the commercial, he says, "Two back," and comes up to her. "Hey," he says, a step too close for friendship.

"Hey back," she says, with a flirty smile. "Will got a table at the Lansings' benefit in a couple of weeks and has extra tickets. Will you go with me?" she says it loud enough that everyone hears and a couple of people turn.

He side-eyes her for a second, then grins. "Of course," he says.

"Great," she says and then, so as to not leave any doubt, she hops up and kisses him over the console. "I'm going to head home. My place."

"Sounds good," he says, rolling with it. "Don't wait up. Charlie wants to speak to me after the show."

She raises an eyebrow. "Should I stick around?"

"No. In fact, he specifically said to come alone."

"Great," she raises the other eyebrow. "Can't wait to hear what he says."

She means to stay awake, she really does, but she passes out and is only jostled into half-consciousness when Don slips into bed. "What'd Charlie want?" she mumbles as she turns to face him.

"To strike the fear of God into me," he says, slipping an arm around her waist.

"What?"

"You know, to remind me that if I hurt you, he knows a guy, kneecaps, blah blah blah."

"Kneecaps blah blah blah?" she asks, way more awake.

"Mmmm yeah," he sighs. "I'm not worried."

"I'm not. I'm just a little offended."

"You can chew him out tomorrow on behalf of feminism. So, the gala?"

"Yeah. About the control room —"

"Don't worry about it," he says. "Does this mean I get to kiss you whenever I want?"

"Within reason and the bounds of professionalism," she caveats.

"Mmmm, sexy," he teases, his nose millimeters from hers. "Happy Valentine's Day, Sloan."

Two weeks later she's dressed in a one-shouldered gray Armani cocktail dress, and Don looks handsome in a suit. She threads her fingers through Don's as they enter the MOMA.

As soon as they're inside, she sees Jamie, a managing director at Morgan Stanley and an HBS classmate of Reese's. They've met at a couple of industry things. "Sloan Sabbith!" he calls from the coat-check line. "How're you?"

"I'm great," she replies with a wide smile. "You?"

"Excellent as always," he grins.

"Great. Jamie, I don't think you've met Don? My boyfriend," she smiles.