Work Text:
Harmony had not considered speed when picking her shoes for work that morning. She regrets that now.
The halls are long, littered with carts and bookshelves and files - and not nearly enough places to hide. If she could just reach the next suite of offices, she might be able to duck into one -
"Ms. Cobel?"
For heaven's sake. She quickens her steps, cursing the telltale click of her heels. Unfortunately Kier has given Cecil Fields a longer stride, not to mention more sensible dress shoes. Despite her best efforts, she does not manage to evade him.
"Ms. Cobel," Fields calls - recognition now instead of question. She's been spotted.
She halts, defeated. Looks back. "Yes?"
He tilts his head as he approaches, unhurried. "Lovely morning. Though a bit overcast for my liking."
Harmony's office in Archives and Continuity happens to be on a windowless floor. She can therefore hardly be expected to know. But she withholds this comment in the interest of diplomacy.
"Certainly," she says instead, shifting the stack of files against her chest. She offers no smile. I'm very busy. I am not interested.
"You must forgive me if I've mentioned this before," the man continues, "but I'd love to pick your brain about some of our more recently established collections."
He has mentioned it.
"I'm afraid I'm unfortunately quite tied up with work obligations this week," she says - her usual refrain.
"Oh, naturally, naturally. I don't mean to keep you from your duties." He waves his hand lightly. "- So, what say you - a nightcap at Thistle sometime? Or perhaps Pip's is more to your liking?"
Christ.
Harmony glances down the hall in the direction of her desk.
In her mind's eye, she sees the obnoxious neon of a sticky note: Asal Reghabi's latest complaint. This one regarding the state in which she'd left the staff kitchenette. (The lack of proper storage space for coffee supplies falls well outside Harmony's responsibility. Obviously.)
She’s been collecting the notes for a while now, stowing them in a desk drawer until she determines an appropriate method of disposal.
"Very kind," Harmony says finally, "but I'm afraid most of my evening plans involve my partner, Asal."
Fields' grin widens. "All the better. You both simply must come over to dine with my husband and I." He leans forward conspiratorially. "We've got a ham."
She returns the smile.
Kier save them all.
Asal is deep in her work when Harmony raps on the door. She knows it's her, mostly due to the height of the shadowy figure behind the glass window.
"Come in," she calls, but before she's even paused her work, Harmony is nearly to her desk. Eyes wild with a buzzing urgency, hackles raised, the whole nine yards. As amusing as it is to watch her bristle - probably best to diffuse a bit before the woman suffers an aneurysm. "Listen, if it's about the microfiche, I already-"
"Have you dealt much with Fields?" Harmony interrupts.
Asal blinks. "Cecil Fields? The collections manager? What about him?"
"He has persisted in inviting me to various outings and conversational opportunities despite my clear disinterest."
"Did you tell him-"
"Always hanging around with that strange man from Security & Compliance-"
"Are you talking about Burt?"
"-And then to top it off, he always winks. Like we're chums, or-"
"Horrifying." Asal feels the leading edge of a headache. "Don't tell me he…smiled at you?"
Harmony, who has been wearing a path into the carpet with agitated pacing, now pauses long enough to shoot her a look. "Stop. You don't find it irksome?"
"Not in the slightest. Fields is a nice man." Asal leans back over her work. "Now, I have a very dry database to comb for Patent Law, so if you don't mind-"
"He invited us to dinner."
Well. That gets her attention. She straightens up at her desk, setting down her pen. "'Us' meaning the Archives and Continuity department?"
Harmony has her eyes locked a few inches above Asal's forehead. "Meaning: you and I."
There's no way this is the full picture. It's equally clear that getting the answer will take some prying. "That's…nice of him, I suppose, but why-"
Still resolutely avoiding eye contact, Harmony speaks as if every word pains her. "He is under the impression we are a couple."
Asal nearly chokes on air. "Wh- no, he's not." A strangled laugh escapes her. "I mean - what would ever give him that impression? I certainly didn't-"
"Iperhapstoldhimweareacouple," says Harmony in one rushed exhale.
"…You're joking. You didn't."
"I am here," Harmony manages to say through gritted teeth, "to request your assistance."
The full absurdity begins to sink in. "Christ, did you think he was trying to ask you out? He's very publicly married to a man."
"His sexual orientation is none of my concern!"
"Was none of your concern. Until you made it both of our concerns." Asal groans, head in her hands. “You-" she shakes her head - "You really couldn't - I don't know - make up a partner? Someone long distance? A boyfriend who works out of town? Girlfriend you met online?"
It's possibly the stupidest thing she's ever seen Harmony Cobel do. And as much as she relishes this, it seems to be hopelessly tangled in her own personal life.
"Using you seemed more final," Harmony says stubbornly. "An ultimate deterrent."
"Ultimate deterrent. How sweet." She taps her pen against the desk.
"I was primarily inspired by one of your many sticky-note-based reminders at my workstation."
"So you do see them!"
"Asal."
For a considerable pause, the only noise is the tap of pen against desk.
"You'll owe me," Asal says finally.
Harmony closes her eyes. "What do you need me to say to convince you?"
"You could start by cleaning up the staff kitchenette." Asal raises her eyebrows. "Per my last sticky note."
Work is busy as always. A&C receives its midweek shipment of restricted data from off-site facilities - reliably a headache and a half to tackle. And of course someone from an external department always, always needs help finding something.
One blessing - true to their deal, Harmony has heeded the sticky note and remedied the disastrous mess she'd made of the kitchenette. Outside of this, however, Asal sees neither head nor tails of the woman.
Thursday night, before heading home, she doubles back through the basement level on a whim. Finds light spilling into the hall from Harmony's desk. Ah. Found you.
She comes to lean against the doorframe, peering inside. "Hey."
In the furthest corner of the tiny room, Harmony is seated behind her computer, pointedly keeping her gaze fixed forward.
Asal sighs. "We should at least get our stories straight, right?"
"How do you mean?" Harmony still hasn’t looked up.
"Well, for one, how did we-" she gestures awkwardly - "get together?"
"Obviously, we met through Lumon."
“And?"
"And what."
"And you won me over with your sparkling personality?"
"If you'd like." Still idly taking notes. An almost performative level of detachment.
"Harmony, if you don't give me anything to work with, I'm going to have to resort to improvisation. Think carefully for a moment: is that really what you want?"
The woman finally lowers her reading glasses to the loop fixed around her neck and spins in her chair to level a look at Asal.
"I couldn't care less as long as you don't embarrass me. We simply have to survive one evening. Then we can feign an amicable breakup and pretend the whole affair never happened."
"Got it," says Asal. "Aren't you a charmer."
Driving home from work, Asal finds her mind wandering to the upcoming dinner. Every time she manages to conjure up the beginnings of a mental image, the whole thing collapses under its own weight.
By the time she hangs her jacket up by the door and kicks off her boots, it's all she can think about.
After a moment, she pulls out her phone:
what are you wearing?
She moves further into the apartment, halting a minute later when her phone buzzes.
One word:
Don't
She can't help but smile. Clarifies:
…to dinner. christ
The response comes faster this time:
Hadn't thought about it. I assume we can't go in our work clothes?
Asal chuckles.
okay, I'm going to send you a picture of my outfit to give you an idea. do with it what you will
She tugs her scarf to lay evenly thrown around her shoulders, casual and flattering over the dark turtleneck she's picked for the occasion. Snaps a picture, deems it suitable, and sends it off. It's timestamped 7:30. An hour passes without a response. At 8:35, she can't help herself:
no thoughts?
Almost instantly, Harmony sends a thumbs up emoji in reply.
Asal snorts, types: that's all I get?
But she deletes it instead of sending it and sets down the phone. Sometimes enough is enough.
The next evening comes faster than expected. Upon receiving Harmony's curt "Here" text, Asal shoulders her bag and makes her way to the sidewalk. There, she finds an idling white Volkswagen Rabbit, windows cracked. She bends slightly, just enough to peer straight down the barrel of a scowl.
"Hi, honey," she says, tapping the doorframe.
Harmony makes a sound of disgust and rolls up the window.
"Hey-"
Get in, Harmony mouths behind the glass. So this is the note they're starting on. Grand.
Asal presses her lips into a thin line and lowers herself into the car. "…Thanks for the ride," she offers after a moment. A small olive branch.
"I hardly had a choice, did I? Seeing as it would appear abnormal for us to arrive separately." Harmony shifts her grip on the wheel.
Olive branch denied. "Don't be a sourpuss this early in the night," Asal mutters, buckling her seatbelt. "Doesn't bode well for our double date."
"Hmmph."
Suddenly, she remembers the text exchange from the previous night. "Wait - let me get a look at the outfit you decided on."
Harmony glares openly.
"Okay, well… now you're making me feel like I'm leering at you against your will, so…never mind." She taps her fingers against her freshly acquired bottle of wine, contemplating escape routes. Is it already too late to call it off? Why is she doing this to herself?
"You purchased wine as well?" Harmony asks, following her gaze. "We'll take mine, then. It's more expensive."
"How do you know that?"
"It's a Leonora vintage."
"Wait, like the ones from the old welcome baskets?"
"Correct.”
And Asal does recognize it now. The perk had been grandfathered out years prior, with Asal's cohort being the last to receive them in their hiring package. Though her own bottle was opened and consumed during some social gathering long passed.
"Fine, let's bring yours. I'll just leave this back here." She twists in her seat, reaches to tuck her bottle in the backseat. In doing so, her eyes land on a small blue cooler. "-Oh, did you bring food too?"
"That is not for the dinner," Harmony says. Asal is completely unsurprised by her refusal to elaborate.
They spend the rest of the drive in a moderately uncomfortable silence.
Fields is not the one to open the door. Instead, it's his husband, Burt. "Come in, come in." Eyes twinkling, waving them inside. The picture of a perfect host. "I insist on taking your coats. Yes, you as well, Ms. Cobel-"
"Fields is tending the ham," he informs them as they awkwardly relinquish their winter jackets. "I hope you like a cumin glaze…?"
"That sounds lovely," Asal says.
"Yes," says Harmony, a beat late.
Burt gestures for the women to follow him deeper into the house, where the smells and sounds of food preparation intensify. "We've also got corn," he adds, an afterthought, and they reach the threshold of the kitchen. Fields is there, apron and oven mitt, lifting an eyebrow.
"Yes, please, offer them a handful of loose corn," he deadpans. "Welcome, dear colleagues."
"It smells wonderful," says Asal.
"We brought wine," says Harmony.
Harmony is glad when the meal begins, having navigated more than her fill of small talk.
Fields pauses, swirling the wine in his glass. "How are things in A&C these days? I don't get down to the basement level as much as I used to."
"Mm…" Asal considers. "For the most part, gathering dust in the archives, organizing materials no one would give a second glance." She winces, remembering. "Occasionally, though, we can be quite popular. This week, for instance-"
"Oh, lord. The emails." Harmony knows exactly what she's referring to. Fields and Burt look inquisitively her direction. "Our inbox has been flooded with pleas for help from researchers trying to navigate the digital archives…every time IT rolls out an update, the system becomes a veritable minefield of error messages and dead links."
"Our modern institution, brought to its knees by such things." Fields says it in a great rolling tide. Suffice it to say the man certainly seems to be enjoying the Leonora vintage.
Burt, a degree more sober, maintains an equally nauseating familiarity. He points at her, smiling. "You, my dear, have quite the way with words."
"Doesn't she?" Asal beams.
Harmony's knuckles whiten in the vice grip she has on her wine.
And so it continues.
"You know," Burt muses, following one spirited retelling of a disastrous fire drill, "all in all, I go home these days feeling tired, but fulfilled."
This is too tempting an opportunity for Harmony to pass up.
"What is it exactly that you do?" There's a bit too much of an edge present in her voice; she feels Asal send her a sideways glance.
"My dearest is the muscle for asset relocation," Fields says smoothly, before Burt can answer. "I often cross paths with our dear Security & Compliance in collections management," he adds. "Quite familiar."
Burt grins. "So I get to see a lot of this dashing fellow right here, as it happens."
"I didn't realize the Lumon Archival Institute frequently required security to accompany asset relocation trips."
"Oh, but enough shop talk," Burt admonishes lightly, dabbing at his mouth with his napkin. "Why don't you tell us how you two began dating?"
Harmony takes a long drink from her glass.
Asal takes her cue. "It started with sticky notes, actually."
"Via stationery. How delightfully fitting." Fields leans forward.
"At first, we were mostly using them to fight. Complain. Argue."
"About?"
"Organization," says Harmony flatly.
"Or lack thereof." Asal shrugs. "And one thing led to another. I've never seen someone generate such a variety of thinly-veiled threats. Couldn't help but be impressed." Asal says this last line aimed directly at Harmony, eyebrows raised: This is what you asked for. And all Harmony can do is arrange her face into a smile in return, and listen. "The longer I paid attention, the more I found to be impressed with."
She slings her arm around the back of Harmony's chair. "Eventually, I switched up my tune on the sticky notes - asked her to coffee instead."
"Incredible," says Burt.
"Gave her this necklace not one month after." She gestures, looks as though she might reach for it, lift it softly from where it lies against Harmony's skin.
Before she can try, Harmony kicks her under the table - deadly swift, perfectly accurate, and somehow all without making any indication. Neither of them flinch.
"What a lovely journey. And just begun."
"And what about the two of you?" Asal looks between the men.
"Our paths first crossed at a church service nearby," Fields says.
Burt nods fondly. "As a matter of fact, I was guided to Lumon's door by Jesus."
"Oh," says Asal pleasantly, smoothing over her surprise with only a moment's delay.
"Jesus Christ?" Harmony asks, ignoring Asal's nudge under the table.
Burt remains unflappable. "That's the one!"
"Really." Asal jumps in. "Did you notice each other right away?"
Mercifully, Burt and Fields need no further prodding to launch into the story.
At what must be intended to be a particularly poignant moment, Fields leans, letting his hand settle on Burt's leg.
For a moment, it looks as though Asal almost reaches over to do the same. She seems to think better of the touch. But Harmony finds the absence of it has its own startling weight.
Good lord. How much longer is left of this?
“That was an ordeal after all,” groans Harmony.
"They're still looking out the window," Asal points out under her breath, beaming and waving at the couple. Then, after they've driven safely out of view - "I don’t know what you mean - I had a wonderful time.”
"I'm sure." Harmony shakes her head.
“It’s just fun to see you get flustered." Asal doesn't know if the wine is that strong, or the hour that late, but the words keep spilling out. "When you get angry, or tipsy, you're just-" She presses her lips together briefly, suddenly catching up to her own thoughts. "Funny," she supplies after a moment.
This, of course, rubs Harmony exactly the wrong way.
"Funny?" She is clearly not impressed.
"No, not like that. Well, kind of like that." Asal considers. "Okay, you won't like this any better, but: endearing?"
"Endearing."
"Yes. You know - Cute. Likable. All the things you're usually too goddamned stressed out to be. Can we talk about something else n-"
“-You don’t have to pretend anymore.” Harmony is staring a hole into the road ahead.
Asal blinks. “Pretend?"
"Fields and Burt aren't here anymore, are they?" The woman angrily fiddles with the air conditioning.
"Harmony." Asal studies her face in profile. "Do you really think I'm incapable of giving you a sincere compliment?"
The air sputters to life, delayed and struggling. Harmony smacks the knob again, to no discernible effect. "It's of little consequence. You performed adequately." Something shifts in her expression. "I could have done without the necklace."
"The necklace?"
"Your little prop. Evidence." Harmony glances at her. "It was my mother's."
"Oh." It's the first ghost of a personal life Asal's heard from her typically guarded coworker; she finds herself shamefully unprepared for it. A beat of recovery later, she shrugs. "Ah. You can tell her I'm sorry I stole credit for it."
"As a matter of fact, I cannot," Harmony says. "She's dead."
Shit. She closes her eyes. "Guess I owe you an apology."
When she hazards a glance over, she finds Harmony staring resolutely straight ahead.
Asal sighs. "Listen…let's just call it even. You don't owe me anything for the dinner. We can pretend this never happened. The food was good anyways…"
"- I found the ham a touch dry, personally. And the conversation-"
"Harmony. Come on."
The pause stretches long enough that she almost asks if she should get out and take a cab instead. But Harmony is the type of person to let someone know the moment she's run out of patience. So Asal resolves to sit and wait for the moment to come.
Meanwhile, she retreats to a safe refrain - mild ribbing. Her own kind of offering; an olive branch Harmony might actually accept. "You know, I actually find it flattering, how you don't bother to pretend with me. You feel safe to be… just your full, insufferable self."
Harmony hums thoughtfully. "Or you bring out the worst in me."
"But…you see how that's flattering too, right?"
"Not particularly." But the little smirk is back. There she is.
Asal weighs her words carefully. "For what it's worth, I wasn't lying when I talked about your accomplishments." She's only met with silence, so she presses on. "At dinner, I mean-"
"Obviously at dinner." But Harmony looks at her a little differently, just for a moment. Then she angles her wrist to check her watch. "I suppose I should take you back to your heated blanket and personal pint of ice cream."
"You know, I like ice cream as much as the next guy, but I'm not as much of a fiend for it as you seem to enjoy suggesting."
Harmony frowns. "I saw you eating it straight out of the container after lunch. On multiple occasions."
"One: flattered that you noticed. Two -" Asal reaches behind into her bag and whips out a blue can. "- it's icing, not ice cream."
Harmony looks so utterly taken aback that Asal almost chokes on her own spit. She finally recovers enough to offer: "Well, want to try? I'm sure I have an extra spoon somewhere."
"No, I certainly do not," Harmony sputters. "I can't believe - how-" she shakes her head.
"This is…really upsetting you, huh?"
"Just a mistake," she grumbles.
"Wait." Asal catches the flash of blue in the rear view mirror. "The cooler-" She bites back a grin before giving up. "There wouldn't happen to be a personal pint of Ben & Jerry's in there, would there?" While Harmony sits in stubborn silence, gears turning to generate a pithy response, Asal shrugs and twists to find out for herself -
Harmony swats her arm away with surprising speed. "Don't snoop! Yes, alright, I brought you some. As a gesture of gratitude." She says it as though it may be her life's biggest regret.
Asal does everything in her power not to laugh. "That's very kind of you."
"Well." Harmony sighs. "What's done is done. I'm hoping your sweet tooth extends past icing."
"You're in luck."
"Wonderful. You can grab it from the back when you retrieve your bottle of wine."
Asal nods. "You know what?" She waits a beat. "Not my worst first date. Too bad you have to break my heart now, though."
She glances over to find Harmony looking her way, eyes steely with a strange mix of determination and something she can't place.
"…Why do you look like that?" She seems to break the spell with her question and Harmony's gaze snaps back to the road. Asal furrows her eyebrows. "What's going on in that brain of yours?" Then, wine-warmed and fond, she reaches out to lightly tap Harmony's temple. "In here."
Harmony blinks several times. "I'm considering you may not be as intolerable as previously believed."
"Oh." Now Asal is the one to blink. "So I'm losing my edge."
Pensive: "No, I don't think that's it."
Okay, she can't help it. "What is it, then?" Nothing. With each passing second, her goading smile melts away. Did I say something wrong? Sure, Harmony's temper can run mercurial at best, but usually Asal can at least track where she's coming from. Even if she wildly disagrees with her reactions. Even if she thinks she's batshit insane half the time.
She lets three blocks pass before a gentle prod. "…Harmony-"
"-I'm thinking!" she snaps.
Asal can't drop it. "And?"
All at once, Harmony yanks the steering wheel to the left, turn signal woefully neglected.
"Jesus-" Asal flings her hand out as the car jerks toward the shoulder. In the midst of the shuddering gravel-spit screech, she is sure this is it - Harmony has decided now is the time to kill them both. But just as suddenly, they come to a hard stop.
She mentally takes inventory of her physical state. Unharmed. Freaked the fuck out. "What the hell?"
"Don't be dramatic. I checked my mirrors."
"You could've-"
"I didn't."
"Do you intend to-"
And then all at once Harmony's hand is in her hair bringing her closer and it's nearly too rough but she's kissing her and the surprise of it has Asal laughing against her mouth, disbelieving and more drunk than she thought. And somehow the laughter falls into this easy rhythm, give and take, tasting wine in her own mouth, in Harmony's -
Her head jerks back. All at once she remembers where she is. And with whom.
"Wait-" She points at Harmony, narrowing her eyes. "Oh my god, you-You can't just kiss someone."
Harmony merely raises an eyebrow. "You wanted me to."
"That's not the point." What was the point? It's hard to remember with her looking like that. " And how could you be sure I wanted to?" Even as she asks it, she misses the feeling.
"You made it difficult to arrive at any other conclusion," Harmony says.
Asal can't help but laugh. "You're so goddamn cocky."
And she's closer again, somehow, getting closer still.
"Is it unearned?"
"As of yet."
"Hmm." Harmony's eyes flick to her mouth.
Asal is near enough to notice freckles dotting the bridge of the woman's nose. "Honestly, tell me…how did we even get here?"
"We met at Lumon," says Harmony, as if it were obvious. "And I won you over with my sparkling personality."
Back at 3329 Gull Harbor Road, Burt washes dishes, pondering.
"They're certainly quite the pair," Fields comments, drying a glass. "Though, one does get the impression they themselves were not aware of this until…say, 45 minutes ago?"
An amused look passes between the pair.
"That's the impression I got, anyhow." And Fields continues through the kitchen, returning the glass to the cabinet.