Bedside Vigils
Summary: A collection of drabbles exploring Harvey and Donna's relationship post 8x16 'Harvey'.
AN: DARVEY ARE CANON! :D Okay, now that's out of the way... I'm not sure what this story is haha. I like the idea of building their relationship through the hiatus but didn't want to write one long fic dedicated to it so I'm thinking maybe just a bunch of one-shots, their first fight, people finding out etc... things like that. Open to all suggestions and ideas :) xx
･ﾟ: *･ :･ﾟ:･ﾟ
Harvey brings the rim of his champagne glass up to his lips the golden bubbles tickling his senses as his mouth closes over the crystal, taking a poised sip to appease the company he's with. It's a charity function not a rodeo; soccer mom's and plastic surgeons all milling about with the same pretentious attitudes. The difference is when the pleasantries wear thin and the alcohol kicks in he'll still be sober, his mind a million miles away from the women throwing themselves and the men eyeing him up as competition. He's not unaccustomed to the attention. There was a time he even relished it, enjoyed the thrill of walking out with the most sought after vixen on his arm, but tonight he only has eyes for one women; the redhead breezing her way effortlessly throughout the crowd. He can almost hear her alluring velvet voice across the room, dropping the firms name where appropriate and reassuring everyone Robert Zane's departure is in no way a reflection of their companies loyalty and diligence.
The Gala is a PR stunt cooked up by Samantha who has been swanning around in the same role as Donna. He was 'roped' in because of his wallet, not necessarily public relations, but in actuality he doesn't mind... not in the slightest. He's had the pleasure and privilege of watching Donna from the corner of his peripheral all night, catching her gaze when she gives in to a moments reprieve or is simply seeking him out because that's something they're allowed to do now. Just like it's his god given right to let his eyes devour the black satin wrapped around her body, the way the small straps slink over her shoulders.
The sharp hardness in his hand makes his fingers itch to touch the delicate fabric, palm the scoop that's hanging perfectly at the curve of her spine and fuck the dress.
She may look gorgeous but he knows what's lying beneath it and he swallows a larger, less crafted sip as he forces his attention back to the group he's 'with'. He and Donna are trying to keep things low-key, at least until the firm's reputation is back on track and he shifts his focus to whatever story is supposed to be holding him captive. Something about a Jack Russel or maybe it's the women's kid? All he sees is movement, signalling Donna is taking a break to go the bar, or rather -more pointedly- his eyes draw to the man that makes a beeline towards her as she breaks across the floor.
He isn't jealous, has no reason to be. There have been men hitting on her all night like the women infatuated with him throughout the coordinated event. Part of him wonders if that isn't the other reason Samantha requested his attendance but the curiosity bleeds through to mild annoyance when Donn's stops midway to her destination. He's noticed the well dressed, handsome (he's secure enough to think it) bachelor circling her all evening but he isn't worried. For one, the way they've woken up each morning entwined with their bodies demanding more has rendered any of his doubts obsolete. She's into him and he's just as much completely, head-over heels (doesn't want anyone else ever) into her. He has nearly twelve years under his belt and this guy has what, a BMW and tailor who's being paid three times too much to over-deliver at what's supposed to be a charity function?
He scoffs into his glass earning looks from the group opposite him and he quickly clears his throat banking on alcohol fuelled charisma. "No offence meant but if you went to Reynaldo during July, I think we can all agree he's money is not going to be where his mouth is." The comment is met with cheap laughter but it paints the conversion with an amicable tone and he raises his drink earning a wink from the women opposite him.
"Well, I think we can all agree on that, Harvey."
If Donna's predicament isn't enough to lead him away Gwendolyn's provocative smirk is and he politely excuses himself depositing his half-full glass on a waiter's tray as he approaches Mr. 'I-can-spell-my-name-with-a-hundred-dollar-bills-just-ask' presenting a trademark, 'you-still-carry-cash-how-quaint' smile.
"Harvey Specter..." he thrusts out his hand introducing himself, "named partner at Specter Litt Wheeler Williams, pleasure to meet you."
"Jacob Harrison."
The man's handshake is firm like he's instigating a dual but Harvey doesn't bat an eyelid at the man's overzealous credentials or his thick English accent. It reminds him of Stephen Huntley but the only tell-tale sign is a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth.
"CEO of Buckingham-Harper Real Estate." Jacob squares his shoulders with a dress-down look etched into his expression. "Wheeler-Williams... so you must work with the lovely Miss Paulsen here?"
Harvey's expression remains impassive as he returns his arm to his side. Harrison could be king of fucking France and he wouldn't give a shit. "I do and I hate to interrupt but I need to drag her away for a few moments, a business matter to attend to... if that's alright by you, Jacob."
Clearly it isn't but the acceptance that comes out of his mouth is instinctive, thick and congealed like honey, and Harvey makes a point of fluttering his hand near Donna's exposed back as he leads her away. Not touching, he's being careful about that, but close enough so he can feel the goosebumps rising on her skin as they move across the floor. Nothing to warrant to a second glance, just two coworkers stealing a few moments privacy, but the pretence drops as they move in the line at the crowded bar. Perfectly acceptable that his chest should press against her shoulders, his voice lowering to be heard above the patrons all demanding attention. "You ask me, we've paid our dues. What's say you and I get out of here?"
"Samantha." She angles her head back so he can hear her, fighting the smile on her lips, "you don't think she'll notice if we suddenly disappear?"
"She'll notice more if I suddenly rip that dress off you." His words are low, husky in her ear and she can feel his fingertips feather against her hips edging her forward as the the women in front of them moves to the side making room.
The thought of his hands desperately searching for ways to pleasure her is almost enough to make her bend but in the past week they've taken more than enough time for themselves. They need to start thinking about the firm and she closes her eyes briefly, stealing herself against the need pooling inside her. "Harvey..."
He recognises the tone as a warning and understands but he is who he is and he wouldn't be that person without the boyish grin that always manages to slide across his lips whenever she's around. "You're right... I really shouldn't keep you from Jacob."
She inwardly groans at the mention of the man who's been encroaching himself on every minute of her free time and for once she hates Harvey for taking the high-road. "You know, most boyfriend's would be jealous."
He stiffens ever so slightly and not at the reference to their relationship status. It's a first but he glosses over it, the insinuation that another man hitting on her doesn't bother him ricocheting in a place that makes him feel uncomfortable. He isn't exactly a hearts and flowers kind of guy. Shit, most of the time he relied on Donna to give him relationship advice and the daunting realisation he has to figure this out on his own now- how to give her everything she needs- makes his expression grow serious, his attempt to keep things low-key at war with the possessiveness rushing through him. If she thinks for one second he's okay with the world viewing her as single, something obtainable, he isn't and his arm snakes across her stomach holding her still beneath the cover of darkness. "You want me to take care of it, I will."
She shivers at the soft declaring note that hits her skin and the amusement on her face falters, aware he would in a heartbeat. It's a gentle reminder that although she's spent years never quite breaching the gap, always being a hairs breadth from the line they were too afraid to cross- she's his now and he's just as much hers. "I can handle it..." she assures, taking in a sharp breath as his fingers slide back to the crease of her waist, "but I do appreciate the offer."
He takes a risk brushing his lips against her crown to make his nod perceptible and then just like that they're back to being 'strangers' at a bar, putting on a show for the world to see. It's frustrating but on some level he thinks maybe they need this, time to piece together what they're doing without the prying opinions of strangers weighing in.
Honesltly they've never done anything to societies standards before anyway. It's made him the best goddamn lawyer in NYC, her the best COO running a law firm in the country and more than that, it makes what they have real. They could showboat their relationship like every other couple here tonight; breath alcohol into an elaborately over-priced venue to keep up appearances but they don't need money or a high profile status.
All he needs is her and his hand slinks out wordlessly tugging her away from the bar. She doesn't protest, her eyes glimmering with slightly guilty amusement but he feels no shame as he leads them through the shadows and out into the brisk air where Ray is waiting to take them home.
He'll send a cheque through in the morning. For the rest of the night he fully intends to adhere to that old saying; charity begins at home.