It was the first time they’d done this in a while, what with the shit storm of Daniel Hardman and the CM memo. Donna used to love these evenings, when Harvey wasn’t the ball breaking lawyer badass, but the guy who was a little too excited at a Yankees game, a little too sincere when talking about Captain Kirk and a lot too likely to zone out when he heard jazz echoing from somewhere, no matter how distantly.
She hadn’t been all too pleasant about Mike coming along the first time, and she’d hold her hands up and admit it. These dinners had been hers and Harvey’s, for over ten years. They’d done this almost as long as they’d known each other, and Mike was an intruder on this side of Harvey. Mike hadn’t earned his stripes…
Up until he had and she began checking Mike’s schedule before Harvey’s, making sure that Mike’s favourite diner and pizza joint were put into the venue rotation.
It turned out that Mike got the same far away look on his face when a phrase triggered a memory of his favourite books, that he grinned a little too hard when talking about video games and who was entirely too concerned with the fate of a time travelling alien, no matter if he was invented for children or not.
The dinners changed, but not for the worse - they were just different. She still missed those private times when she had Harvey to herself, but she had completely accepted Mike into their little arrangement now, after only a handful of occasions.
So it didn’t make sense that she should feel so odd, so ill-at-ease now, sitting across a booth from Harvey. They were in a bar that Harvey liked, a few blocks from his old apartment building in Brooklyn. He was cradling a beer, watching the game absently on the crappy little TV above the bar.
It should’ve been easy, natural even. This was how it had been for all those years, just the two of them… but now there was the space that Mike had filled, suddenly empty and gaping and painful in it’s obviousness. Harvey refused to talk about it, refused to be drawn into a conversation about his former associate. He cut off any meandering train of thought, pointedly changed subjects mid sentence and really, Donna couldn’t help but think it was an improvement on the weeks of stony, anxious silence that had tightened all the air in the office.
(Source: fyeahsuitsheadcanon, via littlegirltree)