Update: Beta'd as if 21.08.17

It's only taken like 10 or so years to work out how to export files and edit my early fics!

Notes: Set after Season Five. (Or as an AU Mid way into the Season) RATED T/M ish (Would rate it M if it appeared in general posting!)

For those Following LIFE, it is my next consideration. And if you're dying for a resolution, check out Angles. I wrote it ages ago, but it kind of fits the current situation. A~

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO


The Arrangement 1 / 2

By Atheniandream


It's Harvey Specter's forty fourth birthday.

The Arrangement...is still intact.

As far as he knows...


Harvey Specter is used to waking up alone. It's in his nature, his way. In truth, he's a loner. And he's mostly happy with that. It's ingrained in him now after all these years, like his suits, his trademarked stare and surly demeanour. It lives in his ability to take down a room with one clever comment, to fend off his opponents with a well placed threat, and all without anyone ever thinking he so much as batted an eyelid.

He peels one of said eyelids open, the spread of white Egyptian cotton rippling out over the majority of the bed as his eyeline grazes all the way to the white windows that frame a pearly blue sky and the stoic looking New York skyline staring back at him.

He's Forty Four today. Not quite to forty five. He's not quite at that age yet. Part of him is still young, still bouncing with the vigour for the fight, for cases and fighting in court and yet...the other? The other part is weighted and reeling in age, tired from the fight and yearning for something that his heart knows, but his conscience is still too unsure to define.

He turns to sit upright, stretching out his back and hears the cracks and strain of muscles pulling out of their held position as he moves to stand, wandering on autopilot out to the open plan kitchen. He yawns expressively, moving around the counter as he rubs at the back of his head.

He wonders if he should have taken the day off. If maybe he's getting too old to avoid pause.

He effortlessly flicks on the coffee machine and decides for a double hit to pick up his addled mind-set. He's had a long few months, juggling work and therapy and righting the ship that was his life. Not to mention finally putting Jack Soloff in his place. That was is worse than Louis. Sure, Louis was a cat-loving ass with a chip on his shoulder, and that was bad enough, but he was sure that Jack Soloff had nine lives. Luckily, he had knocked every single one of them out of the park, reclaiming his position next to Jessica and regained the support of the other Partners.

So much had happened this year; mostly to him, but also to the people around him.

With the people around him.

He smirks to himself at the obviousness of such an open reflection, as a streak of red flashes in his mind like the sun through autumn leaves.

He barely used to reflect. Instead he would seethe. He would often brood. Sometimes he'd displace things. Feelings mostly.

Displacement. He'd learnt that one from Paula. One seemingly vital discovery amongst the many others that he had realised he'd buried long ago.

He looks into the bathroom mirror, watching his reflection. The two moles above his left eye, one of which seems to be getting bigger than the other. The lines that have graduated from around his dark eyes to his forehead.

He blames the lines on her. Exclusively.

He's realised that now, after a time. She is the one thing that makes him completely lose his shit.

And the only one that manages to put him back together.

He smirks a little, at the reminder of this important day above the other ones.

This year. This year...he's getting something that...he has to admit, he has wanted for...a long while.

And before the long while he had wanted it for even longer.


His face settles into a calm smile as he looks into the long mirror in the walk-in wardrobe, checking his tie and cuffs, before examining the seams of his jacket.

She's bound to scrutinise him ten times more on this one day, so he makes sure that she has nothing to immediately pick at.

After all...he wants her to work for it. Even if - and he knows it to be fact - that she'll think that she has the upper hand today.

But he can't help it...he loves it when she sweats it out a little.

It's become a game now. An almost attempt at torture to abate the fervent urges that come on like a steadily growing series of swells. He'd never realised before that her absence could make him feel like he was completely empty; that he didn't work without her, and that the reality of such a thing ran so far beyond work and straight into his central being. He was at odds with himself without her almost constant presence, and it humbled him in a way that not even a Specter smile could quash.

He could do his job, of course. But only half as well without the other half of him.

And that's what she was. This complicated, intrinsically connected other half.

And now she was more than just his ex-secretary. She was his secretary again, after almost five months absence and one month in. Gretchen had agreed to move to Louis, the three of them accepting that as perfect as she was for Harvey, she'd be better suited keeping Louis under control. Harvey had been sad to lose to her, in truth. He'd grown a tiny little soft spot for the balsy older woman. She was full of sense and guile and he had needed her uncomplicated support. He had unofficially bumped up her salary there and then, all without Louis's blessing.

The initial change back hadn't been easy though. Donna's momentous return to his desk had brought with it another very poignant layer. And he'd put her in a box in his head for so long, filed under 'just my secretary', that even when the tables truly turned in his mind, it took a while for him to see her as she really was.

This undeniably beautiful woman,

who he was very much in love with.

But who was not his usual type.

It had plagued him at first. It didn't correlate. This contradiction of how he saw her.

Up until then he had been chasing petite little brunettes around the place and put her on a pedestal so high for so long, that he'd not even had a chance to really look at her since the other time. And back then, she was just something that, at the time, he just had to have. And then he had claimed it and...things...just...didn't go that way.

After that he'd locked everything into that little box for ten years, every compartment of 'them' and 'her' and the little moment that left a mark, was tucked away and filed under 'do not recount under any circumstances, even to your shrink'.

Of course, that was until her leaving had broken the hinges of said box like she was a little boy with heavy pockets, assaulting a gumball machine. The wake of such a thing caused every single feeling, thought and repressed situation to flood back into his life with vigour.

Well, that and The Dream...

Their reunion had started with a kiss. And then a slap. And then...that and the other thing.

For exactly twelve hours he felt like the King of World. Until, like some Greek Goddess she had quashed his plans under her heel and righted the ship with a firm finish and a new proposal.

And now...they were in this situation.

They were to work together again.

She was….not allowed to date her ex - the important one - not ever. Otherwise he would sue her, for Abandonment and the breaking of their verbal agreement.

And he wasn't allowed to see or even council Esther Litt. (And to be honest, given their strangely electric connection, he assumed that it would be for the best) And in return of that consideration, he was allowed to sleep around the general Manhattan community as long as it didn't turn into anything...serious.

Her too.

And, in exactly five years time...he - as she had put it would... 'Put a ring on it'.

A big one.

And for the kind of man he used to be,

It was an ironclad deal.

Except he wasn't the man he used to be.

Now he had...has needs. More importantly, a new need for her, now.

And so she had offered an...Arrangement, of sorts.

Two days a year, Donna Roberta Paulsen had agreed to...

Re-enact the Original Can Opener Ritual.

And, today, was one of those days.

As he takes one last look in the mirror to check that everything is in place, watching with that knowing calm setting across his face, he decides there and then…

That Today, is going to be a fucking great day.


I just can't get you out of my head

Boy your loving is all I think about

I just can't get you out of my head

Boy it's more than I dare to think about

Every night

Every day

Just to be there in your arms

Won't you stay

Won't you lay

Stay forever and ever and ever and ever

'Can't get Blue Monday Outta my Head' - By Kylie/Blue Monday


He realises that he's actually a little anxious, if not impatient to see her as he stalks the halls of his firm with a kind of swagger fit for Dean Martin himself. He hangs a left to his office, his jaw hardening into an expectant pout.

She's not at her desk, he notes, pausing, as a confused frown settles above his wider eyes. His neck cranes slightly, looking right into his office with a humbling groan.

He should have known.

Old habits die hard and this has always been her MO...

He smirks unnaturally then at the display; her, sat at his desk, clad in a royal blue wrap around dress that gathers against the bustline in a way that highlights his motive somewhere deep down in his gut, as her vibrant hair drips down against the seat's backrest. His eyes linger to her legs, which he supposes are silky soft to the touch as they stretch out on his desk, casually crossed at the ankle to reveal her strappy silver Manolos.

Not her usual nude, he notes.

But he wagers that...this is not a usual day.

The look she's wearing is bordering on predatory, he thinks, with her mouth slightly open and twisted with a feline sensibility. It reminds him of the dream, stirring something unusual in his gut as he tries not to linger on the less savoury part of it that he blocks far out of his memory. His cheekbones harden to give him the perfect cover to exhale at the sheer sight of her, as his hands slide into his pockets. All of his gestures bely that urge that keeps making itself known.

He's frustratingly linear, he thinks. Especially in her presence.

All at once, he feels fifteen again.

The pointed look in her eyes, that twinkle of interest as she stares at him with a suggestiveness warms him all the way to his toes, as he swaggers towards her, a smirk sharpening his features all the more. His chin lifts with purpose, waiting for her to speak first.

"Morning, Harvey." She says sweetly, her legs sliding off of his desk as she pushes to a stand in one fluid motion.

"Morning...Donna." He replies evenly, feeling the need to clear his throat as he walks around to the other side of his desk. He feels her head turn slightly as he slides past her, careful not to graze a hand across any part of her. He feels her eyes on him and all at once he feels like he's losing against whatever silent play she set has in motion. His hands then fiddle idly with the papers she has probably left for him mere moments before. When the room washes with silence, his all too quickly darkened eyes flick up to see her stood silently on the opposite side of his desk then, something else besides their two person game playing in the periphery of her mind.

That's how they, or at least, he, has gotten through the last month.

Games. That and an incredibly detailed scoring system.

"So...aren't you going to wish me a 'Happy Birthday'?" He enquires playfully.

She turns animated in a second. He nearly laughs. "Hmmm, well," She says, pursing her lips as she looks to his vinyl collection, her hip dropping on one side. "The thing is that...I can't wish you a Happy Birthday if... I don't have a present to give you." She notes.

He softens then, rolling his eyes at her. "You don't have to get me a gift, Donna." He tells her. "You being here is...gift enough." He admits, his eyebrows denting with the vomit-worthy sincerity free-flowing out of him. His face softens, before he looks back at his paperwork for a much-needed distraction.

"Oh, I have a gift." She counters, her voice colourful, turning his attention straight back to her again.

He raises an eyebrow to that. She's impossible. And he struggles not to be completely overtaken with her.

"But you're not getting it...just yet." She tells him, grinning before she spins on her heel, settling at her desk without looking back at him.

It takes everything imaginable to reign himself in for the four seconds it takes Mike Ross to walk through the door and save him from following his secretary, ne, the woman he loves to her desk and fucking her right there in her...cubicle.

Because, of course it's been a fantasy for a month now so why not indulge the idea...

He swallows the lump in his throat, glaring at the vibrant redhead who finally arches one polished eyebrow at him.

"Good Morning, Boss." Mike chimes, marching in with a fanning of folders in one hand, and an 'all business' look about him.

Not to mention that horrific hair has made an appearance once more.

But he's so distracted he doesn't notice until Mike unfolds the other hand from behind him, revealing two tickets, that he all but thrusts into his face.

"Happy Birthday." Mike says, pushing the tickets further towards him.

Harvey frowns immediately, glancing towards Donna, who's all of a sudden not at her desk where he expects to see an expression of sorts. His eyes flick up after reading the tickets, looking up at the excited looking man-child of an Associate staring back at him.

"Nicks tickets?" Harvey enquires, a darkened glare on his face.

"They're the real Mccoy. Front row. Tonight. Acquired by myself, and...Jay Z will actually be there this time. Because I called him.Twice. But...Beyonce is not free." He states, the latter part of his reply causing his face to fall slightly.

Harvey sighs, noticing Donna has now returned to her desk, but is now deliberately avoiding his eyeline.

"I'm busy...tonight." Harvey states, clearing his throat, before looking up at his counterpart. "Raincheck?" He asks, his eyes flicking to a busy-looking Donna.

Mike frowns then indicating to the door. "But Donna said you were free tonight?" He enquires, looking between the two of them, his expression completely innocent, which riles Harvey all the more.

"Of course she did." Harvey mutters under his breath, pursing his lips for a moment, before shrugging. "Sure. Why not." He says, his face softening to his Associate.

He can't blame the kid.

His annoyance is firmly set on the deceitful redheaded devil-woman outside his office.

He plans to serve her with papers at 8am tomorrow morning.

Sharp.


The day moves on like that. And he doesn't mention it.

He nearly does, the impulse riding as she sits there, supposedly immersed in her duties. He stands up from his desk, deciding not to call her into his office, and starts to walk towards the doorway, until Jessica corners him, demanding updates on his workload. He doubles back to his desk, sitting down again.

When his eyes flick up to the desk outside, again, there is no one occupying it.

"Harvey. I need an update on the Thompson v. Hampton case." She demands.

"Jessica. I am dick deep in paperwork right now. How's that for an update?" He offers, his voice on a knife edge of indignation.

"Wow." Jessica scoffs. "Someone is a little...uptight today." See observes with a wicked smile.

His eyes narrow slowly.

Does she know about the Arrangement?, he wonders, huffing then when she arches an eyebrow at his silence.

"Couldn't have anything to do with it being your birthday, could it?" She enquires, turning to the empty desk in front of his office.

"Which reminds me...where's my present?" He replies grumpily, ignoring the insinuation.

"Something tells me that there's nothing I could give you that would make your day." She tells him with a smile.

"Did Donna tell you?" He fires then, his eyes alert at the possibility.

Donna isn't a gossip.

But Jessica was never fully let in on what happened between them. She could have cornered Donna and demanded for her to divulge the details.

"Tell me what?" She blinks evenly.

For a second he's at odds with the notion that she has no idea what he is talking about, as he examines her confused frown and voluptuous pout for obvious flaws.

"Nothing." He grumbles, his shoulders slumping slightly.

"Boy, you need to get laid..." She remarks, swaggering as she spins on a heel.

"Is that an offer?" He calls to her retreating form.

"Happy Birthday, Harvey." She throws over her shoulder with a deliberate smirk.

"I expect a gift, you know." He calls after her, grumbling when she ignores his words.


When the end of the day nears, Harvey's mood has picked up.

One call from his Brother, two cases officially put to bed, and hopefully a very entertaining evening planned.

Until he remembers about the Nicks.

His mood drops instantly when he receives a message from Donna, saying:

Had to skip out. All files prepped for tomorrow on my desk.

Enjoy the Nicks. D xx

He grumbles under his breath, shoving his phone into his pocket.

It's then that he notices Mike round the corner.

"Hey...you ready to go?" Mike asks casually, his hands sliding into his pockets.

He decides then, that this is probably as good as his Birthday is going to get.

"Sure." He shrugs, walking ahead of his counterpart.


Over an hour into the game, the Nicks were up by three points and yet Harvey was still agitated.

He feels Mike lean in to gain his attention over the gap of a seat.

"You're awfully quiet, sat there. Being quiet." Mike observes, narrowing his eyes at his Partner.

He squints dangerously at the younger man, observing him. "Well, you talk for the two of us, so I thought I'd save Jay-Z the trouble of having to fight the sound of my voice as well as yours."

"I was impassioned." Mike defends, his voice etching up a notch. "It was a debate!"

"Sure." Harvey gives him a dry, unconvinced look. "Jay-Z came all the way down here to fight over the changing legislation of Publishing law instead of watching the pinnacle game of the season."

"It's an important topic. He's a businessman, you know." Mike notes, unfazed.

"You scared him away." He smirked then, his eyes rolling deliberately to the empty seat between them. "He's been gone for like...twenty-two minutes." Harvey observes, looking to his watch.

"He's probably calling his wife." Mike shrugs, the gussy about him as he deflects any doubt out onto the court.

"I doubt somehow that he's as whipped as you are." Harvey observes pointedly.

"I'll have you know that Rachel and I...have an even relationship." Mike assures him, straightening in his seat.

"You want a bet?" Harvey Counters. Rachel always held the power in their relationship. Which always fascinated him because she always seemed so docile. "I can call her now if you'd like?" He offers, enjoying his Associate in the corner.

"Hey, this conversation didn't start about me. It started about you." Mike deflects. "So...what's going on?"

He straightens then, looking out onto the field. "Nothing." He shrugs, avoiding his eye line.

"Harvey? Come on...It's Mike...you have all my secrets."

His friend was right.

He had always had his back.

Albeit with a direct line to Rachel...

"Promise not to tell Rachel?" He finds himself asking.

"You want me to lie to my Fiancee?" Mike's eyes widen at the idea of such a thing.

"No. I want you to promise me you won't tell Rachel. Who will absolutely tell…" He sighs with the inevitability at having to tell him. "...Donna. If she finds out."

Mike's eyebrows raise at that.

Potentially there are now three other people besides he and Donna who now know about the...Arrangement.

He can't ever keep a damn thing...

"Okay. I...promise." Mike answers finally.

There is the finest amount of doubt in his words, but Harvey is too tired to even play against it by this point.

"Before Donna came back to work for me...we discussed...an...Arrangement, of sorts."

"Does this have to do with her sleeping with you on your Birthday?"

"God dammit!" Harvey says under his breath.

"Okay...this makes sense...you're with me...whereas you'd rather be...in her," Mike quips, earning a sneer from his friend.

"When did Rachel tell you?" Harvey fires at him.

"I don't know. Like a month ago?" Mike shrugs, picking up his beer.

Harvey shakes his head then, mostly to loosen the pounding sense of dread.

This is embarrassing to the enth degree.

"So..if you knew. Why'd you push it this morning?" Harvey asks then.

It seems idiotic that, as a friend, Mike would even dream of cock-blocking him on this rather important occasion.

"I don't know! I guessed that you'd...be doing something after? Or already had?" He reasons.

It's a sound reasoning. As much as it riles him to admit it...

"Way to have my back, buddy." He jibes.

"How am I supposed to know that you didn't wind up having 'Happy Birthday Morning Sex'?" Mike defends, his voice peeling.

"That what Rachel give you?" He offers, unamused.

Mike pouts then, overtaken by the recent memory. "She is so bendy...I am so lucky."

He waits for the longer than appropriate moment for Mike to finish his replay.

"But, back to you," His younger counterpart offers. "So, you haven't yet...I gather?"

"We did...like a month ago." Harvey answers. "But today? No..." He answers glumly.

"So. Why don't you just call her?" Mike offers, picking up his beer.

It's like this kid is brand new, somedays…

"Where did you think I was at half time?" Harvey gawps.

"I don't know, Bathroom? You're getting old…you know...bladder wise." He quips.

"Funny." Harvey humours him with a glare.

"So... call her now." Mike offers then, gesturing to the man's pocket.

"You know what. I just might…" He reasons then, standing up. "You want another?" He asks, inferring the beer in Mike's hand.

"Sure. Why not." Mike shrugs, downing the rest of the watery tasting liquid.


Ten Minutes Later.

Harvey curses under his breath.

She still isn't answering her damn phone.

Three times he's called her.

Three times...and nothing.

He'd even left a voicemail earlier, reigning in all the concentration he had not to bark down the phone.

It's degrading. This level he'd stoopt to...because of her.

He abates the urge to drop his cellphone into his freshly purchased beer.


Mike had frowned at him when he'd offered to get a cab alone. But it had been the little flicker of a smile with his even reply that had proved to Harvey that Mike was more in the loop than he let on.

He had muttered the address to the cab driver, the irrational frustration building in him with every mile.

It was now eleven o'clock as he stands in front of his Assistant's building.

He is horny, tired and aggravated, to say the least.

As he strides over to the buzzer, pressing it hard, it vibrates against his finger.

He waits for a moment that is longer than his patience can take at this point.

Nothing.

He slumps, his eyes closing as he curses and phishes his phone out of his pocket, pressing the recent number on his call log, deliberately ignoring the (7) next to her name.

Again, nothing. Nothing accept her chirpy 'This is Donna. I'm busy. Leave a message.' tone ringing down his ear. Her familiar if not slightly sarcastic sounding voice only aggravates him further, as he assaults the buzzer once more, a flare of anger spiking out of him at the fact that it's past the hour to be let into her building via the tradesman's entrance, as he presses the buzzer several times just for good measure to check it either hasn't broken, or now will be.

He remembers then, the amount of times he ended up at her door unannounced during their poignant split and the fury that it encouraged out of her. The remembrance of such a thing lessens his annoyance just a fraction as he stalks towards the sidewalk then to hail a cab.

He's going home to get drunk, seethe and then masterbate an inappropriate amount of times.

This is officially the worst birthday in the history of….ever.


Knew you'd be here tonight

So I put my best dress on

Boy I was so right

Our eyes connected

Now nothing's how it used to be

No second guesses

Track in on this feeling

Pull focus close up you and me

Nobody's leaving

Got me affected

Spun me 180 degrees

It's so electric

Slow down and dance with me

Yeah, slow

Skip a beat and move with my body

Yeah, slow

Come on and dance with me

Yeah, slow

Skip a beat and move with my body

Yeah, slow

'Slow' By Kylie


When he finally makes it home, his key sliding into the lock of his shiny white front door, he lets out a muddy sigh of relief.

Today has not gone at all like he had planned it to.

The anger and frustration has almost emptied out of him like an adrenaline rush. He realises that he's getting old when he can't even hold on to a grudge for more than a a full work-day.

It's been exhausting to even keep it up this long, he thinks, as he hangs up his coat.

Since when did become one of those people who had to clamber over what he wanted the most?

Since when did what he want, become so god damned defined?

Since when…

Did he leave a lamp on?

He stops mid-way down the hall, startled by the lamplight flooding in a cone shape across the ceiling. He blinks, his eyes gliding across the shoulders of a woman, one that he could identify even through a crowd of seemingly similar redheads, her hair rippling down one side she sits upright on his couch, with her legs crossed underneath a skin tight wash of glittering midnight blue coloured fabric. He inhales in a wave, noticing how the material frames her body, sheer and tantalizing across her bare shoulders as the only part of her bare body that the dress allows him to see.

She pouts, her lips glossy and her chin lifting as he starts to walk towards her, his mouth falling into a subtly relieved smirk as she moves to stand.

He gives her a look that says everything and anything he needs to about the past fifteen hours of complete torture.

He's been excited, confused, annoyed, irritated, angry, and exhausted in one very secluded birthday.

And he knows, without a doubt, that she's been deliberate in her assault.

He steps towards her to close the couple of feet between them, just close enough to chip away at her veil of held confidence.

She's always been a confident woman, but he knows how to get under skin in more ways that one, now.

"You orchestrated this entire day….didn't you?" He supposes, glaring at her with a kind of entertainment at her presence.

"You're only just realising that?" She offers, given him a piteous look.

He shakes his head, glaring at her. "You've been driving me insane." He tells her.

"If you didn't have to work for it...it wouldn't be the kind of present that we both know you want it to be." She tells him. "Am I right?"

His lips press together as he looks at her. She is right. Frustratingly so. "And the dress is…?" He indicates, pointing his finger vaguely at her stood there, covered head to toe with stretchy looking, almost see-through fabric.

She shrugs one shoulder, that cat like look she gave him this morning lighting her features once more. "It's not a birthday present if you don't get to...unwrap it." She tells him, smiling slightly when she notices him sway intuitively towards her.

"Hmmm," He exhales then. "I hoped you'd say that," He breathes, taking that last half a step towards her. He reigns in the impulse to pick her up and carry her to his bed as he looks into her eyes, their coal rimmed frames fluttering in way that makes his groin stir.

Her hand catches his chest before his lips can barely claim hers. She pushes gently against him, until there is about six inches between their two faces. A frown he's been wearing as the theme of the day slides back onto his face, despite the warmth emanating from her hand.

"You don't get to kiss me..." She tells him.

He groans tiredly at her restriction.

"....yet…" She clarifies, cutting off the impulse.

He frowns for a moment, before smiling crookedly in understanding, and gradually straightens with a regained confidence.

"Turn around." He commands, his voice dark.

Her eyes widen with an impressed smirk, before shrugging as she turns slowly on the spot.

He inhales then, readying himself for the fact that she's fully enabling him to initiate this as long as it meets her terms to the letter.

She's always been tough but fair when it comes to them...

It's then that he's certain. She knows him in every way, because he actually needs this. He's not been longing for it, he's been planning it. Every meticulous detail according to their past, present and future.

With her back turned he pouts for a moment in thought, before his hand reaches out intuitively, with a flattening of his palm that he raises until his index finger presses lightly against the top of her back. He watches her shoulders flex ever so slightly from the touch, as he runs his finger down her spine. He feels her inhale, smirking to himself before taking a small step towards her, his hand returning to the top of the dress, but this time taking the tiny zip in his hand. He runs the zip painstakingly down her back, inch by inch, feeling his breath catch at the sight of her freckles and soft skin even in the deliberately concealing lighting concept. He passes scandalous red lace, and more freckles, until he meets red lace again, his jaw twitching with excitement as her dress unwraps her on each side. Her head turns then, flattening against her right shoulder as her eyes search for him in her periphery, a secret smirk for him as she waits for his next move.

"Eyes forward." He commands then, smirking at the sound of her mirth ridden chuckle as she does as is told.

He smiles to himself, kind of goofily, before coughing slightly to regain his composure.

"You enjoying yourself there?" He hears her ask.

"Oh...much." He replies casually, before a hand with a mind of it's own slides across her right hip, before settling on her stomach. He takes a step towards her, until he's flush against her, his lips pressing against the ridge at the base of her neck, his teeth gently grazing her skin before his lips close in a kiss. He hears her hum slightly, her neck folding into him, and suddenly all he wants to do is kiss her on the mouth and fuck her up against the see-through walls of his condo for everybody to see.

He checks himself again. He has to do this her way otherwise she'll likely leave him high and dry.

His hand rises to flatten against the bottom of her ribs, his other hand peeling the sheer midnight blue fabric away from her left collarbone to be replaced by a painstakingly slow trail of kisses that gravitate towards the tip of her shoulder, nipping the flesh there. She moans then, and suddenly he's aware of being so very hard against her. He smiles when her left hand and covered wrist appears on her right shoulder, sliding the fabric down to match the other side.

He frowns, beside the secret smirk at her action. "Hey." He chides. "No helping." He commands, before his right hands gravitates around to her back, continuing to unfold her out of her dress until it's long sleeves settle at her pointy elbows, his arms sliding around to cradle them as he presses against her, his obvious reaction to her making itself apparent.

He feels her face pull into a smile as his face settles in the crook of her neck.

"So...can I assume that you...like...your birthday present?" She enquires lightly. He can feel her losing her practised cool against him.

"I think so," He plays at indifference then, his tone still slightly suggestive, before turning to plant a kiss behind her ear. "Of course, I'm going to have to...play with it...for a...little longer," He tells her, his voice dripping in double edged meaning. "You know...just to be sure." He assures her, looking to her, before pushing her hair aside.

"Of course," She agrees casually, leaning slightly into him.

His fingers slide to grasp her waist as she frees her hands so he can slide the rest of the dress off her hips. He smirks, the sight of matching red french panties to finish off the look.

He decides there and then. She is a temptress and never to be trusted with anything other than this work and his heart. His future health, he decides, is firmly at risk if she's going to dress like this just for him.

He spins her on the spot in one fluid motion, which disarms her, because A) He's always been able to lead a lady, in a dance or anything else for that matter and B) She's got two left feet and boney knees, both of which entertains him to no end, despite her confidence in life and high heels.

He chuckles to himself, his hands clamping down on her hips to steady her, before finally meeting her eye. For the first time in a very long time he feels like he's lost in her, watching her smile at him in that way that he knows means that she absolutely does love him. He leans eagerly forward to kiss her, before she stops him with a finger against his lips. He reigns in the repeat annoyance flaring up in him once more. He purses his lips when her finger drops.

"Donna?" He questions, his eyebrows raising and head tilting ever so slightly with a silent question.

"Fine. Kiss me...if you want to ruin it." She shrugs defiantly, laying the bait.

He scowls then, narrowing his eyes at her words. Once again, he reigns in his uncomfortable annoyance.

She smirks in victory, her hands sliding over his already erect nipples and pressing into the panels of his chest, causing him to exhale any irritation that still muddles against his winning desire for her. Her nimble fingers glide to the top of his collar, opened earlier in the evening from the relaxed position the loosened knot of his tie had pushed it into. Her fingers wrap around his tie then, expertly undoing the lazy windsor that it has become. His eyebrows raise when she pulls it down one side of his neck, before balling it in her fist, and throwing it over his head to land in the hallway.

He gives her an admonishing look, his head tilting slightly to question her devilish smirk, as her hands return to his collar, her fingers sliding underneath it before carefully moving to the fourth button, undoing each one on his shirt with a pin sharp acuity. He watches, this woman in her provocative negligee, pouting slightly in concentration as she slowly rids him of his garments. He finds himself fascinated by her face, watching her undo the last button only to run her hands against his stomach, higher past his quickly tensing abs and over the panels of his chest until they slide down his arms, her hands tracing the contours of his arms and the firm muscles that have developed from years of boxing.

She frowns for a moment when her arms reach the cuffs, before he watches her smile to herself, her left hand sliding against the outside of his right pocket. Her eyes flick to his suggestively, as he feels her hand tap up into his pocket, the jingle jangle of metal cufflinks jumping about in the lining.

She smiles, before her hands pull on either sleeve, bringing them less than an inch apart. She's suddenly so close that his vision blurs, as his tongue darts to his bottom lip, his nose filled with her signature perfume, a mix of grapefruit and cranberry and vanilla. he's about to say something until she all but yanks his shirt off his shoulders, flicking one wrist so that it ends up strewn across the floor.

A map for the rest, he thinks to himself, looking to her, the feeling of her breath against his face.

It flashes in his mind, then.

The question.

Why hasn't he

He closes the gap before his subconscious can even answer, a hand slides up to her face and his head angles to quickly press a kiss against her lips, the moment he can steal for himself before she can react. She tastes like caramel and the faint tinge of her favourite wine, he realises, as his top lip gently nudges her mouth open for him a second time. She feels like inevitable relaxation. She masks her reaction in a second worth of restraint until his hand falls to join the other in pressing her against him enough to grind into her inner thigh. Suddenly and reactively her hands are angling his head so that she can kiss him fully then, her tongue sliding against his with heated breath and a heaviness. She nips at his bottom lip, tugging on it just enough to elicit a moan deep in his throat.

He realises then, in the addled sex-haze and her completely overwhelming his senses, that the restraint is as much for her as it is for him, and that if either of them had initiated a kiss at the beginning, then the entire thing would have been over and done with in at least seven all too perfect minutes.

But this was about more than just claiming seven minutes. It had to mean more because of it's complete lack of regularity.

This was a second...or...a third off.

A...three in a kind moment, and celebration of the initial union itself.

She would tell him later that it was a' revisiting'.

It only dawns on him, disconnecting him from his current self that this is going to be nothing like it had been the first time. Or the second.

Donna is it for him.

For better or worse...he can't escape or replace the fact any longer. Strange thing is he doesn't want to either. He's too tired to fight against it now that they're finally in the same place.

He moans, low against her mouth at the thought still coursing through him as his fingernails graze gently up the prominent ridges of her ribs. He feels her inhale under his unpractised - at least on her - touch; her hands playing with his hairline as his lips slide to her jaw, following freckles to the side of her neck and sucking hard against the soft flesh there.

She whimpers, stiffening for a moment to look into his eyes, alarm and the bare taint of a warning there as their hands still in their places.

"Harvey. You can't leave a mark." She warns.

Panics floods him and leaves his body in a huff, his brows fusing together in reply as his hands finally drop.

"Donna." He tells her, his trademark tone when using her name. "If this is all I'm gonna get right now, then I am sure as hell gonna leave something for you to remember it by." He tells her somewhat sternly.

Her eyes narrow, questioning him for a moment until she seems to decide something that speaks of a finality in her head, and a smirk slowly appears in its place. He's taken off guard when her finger slides around the loop of his trousers and she turns pulling him to follow her as she returns them to the couch. She let's go, pushing his chest lightly for him to sit down. He stifles the feeling of his pants tightening with the tension of his arousal, as his eyebrow quivers, questioning her stood above him.

She bends down then, her hand sliding to his chin to guide his lips towards her, planting a firm if not oddly promise-laden kiss, before she kneels in front of him. He smirks lazily, allowing her to press his legs apart so that she can settle between them. His eyes dart briefly to their reflection in the glass that fights against the view of the opposing skyline. His eyes don't meet much past the image of her. She is phoenix like and seemingly feather light, balancing on her pointy knees below him. He looks back to her, trying to reign in an arrogant presumption forming in his head.

"Now... I know that this is deviating mildly from the..." She clears her throat deliberately. "Usual itinerary." She points out, looking up at him with suddenly calculating eyes.

"It is, but...I'm okay with that." He tells her, his words skipping with a gulp when her hands slide down with a deliberate press, coasting from his knees all the way along his inner thighs and stopping a mere inch from his still solid erection.

He's one hundred percent sure that he's going to be a complete mess after this, he thinks. He can barely contain the impulse to pull her on top of him when she leans forward seductively and pulls at his belt buckle, his eyes flicking down to see that very small and solitary freckle on the right hand side of her cleavage that he's grown accustomed to seeing. His jaw sharpens, eyes focusing when she flicks open the top button of his pants and unzips them, his adequate bulge revealing itself in a way that causes a spread of a smile to grow widely on her face.

"Oh...I've missed you." She breathes, smirking as she tugs his pants down to the bottom of his thighs.

"Donna," He chides, the rarest of blushes appearing on his already beer-tinged face. She always has had the unique habit of embarrassing him when his guards are the lowest.

"Sorry," She smiles sheepishly, entertained by his sudden bout of self consciousness, as his trousers pool around his calves.

He's like that with her now. Now that the walls are mostly down and their cards were laid out firmly on the table that is their relationship, he now finds himself tender and easily bruised around her. So funny that he be the first one to change in regards to them. Work is mostly how it was. But now and again their are looks, the brushing of hands and accidental touches that last much longer. Silent messages transmitted between them, and feelings not so held back as they once were.

She leans back to undo his shoes, allowing him to toe them off before she gently peels his socks off of him one by one.

"Getting domestic, are we?" He queries, containing a smirk.

She arches an eyebrow. "You wish." She throws at him, finally pulling his pants off - with his assistance - so that she can throw them into the room along with his other things.

He's always thought that she would be painstaking with her undressing of him. Maybe the times were changing. Or Maybe she was just as desperate to cut corners as he was.

He leans his head back with an excruciating sigh, when he feels her warm hand slide into his boxers and take hold of him. He bites his lip, his eyes flicking to her ripple of burnt orange hair as he feels her lips on him, expertly claiming an advantage over him that he hopes won't last for long.

He feels her tongue swirl in a figure of eight, and then in a line and he wonders if he'll ever reach that age or whether she truly will be the death of him on his fort-fourth birthday. Her breath catches and it immediately excites him. He tries to hold in the urge for his hips to buck against her. Never the gentlemanly thing to do, in any scenario where a woman has her hand around you.

The second time with them had been all urges and fighting and claiming one another in a fury, a battle. This isn't one of those times. But the idea that she could enjoy this as much as he clearly was only turned him on all the more.

"Fuck, Donna." He breathes with a sensitivity, his right arm reaching out to grasp along the back of the couch. His thumb presses against the worn black leather of the backrest when her tongue slides up the entire of his shaft in one languid stroke. He can't make out her expression for the vivid curtain of rippling hair that hangs between them, but he can see by the way her back relaxes that she's clearly getting into it. He remembers their recent conversation, and her admitting that this specific act turned her on. They both realised at that point that they'd always be fighting to pleasure the other first...and god, does he want to skip to the part where that becomes a permanent feature of his life...

For now, he will have to be satisfied with what he can get, as he feels his breath start to come in steadily crashing waves, colliding with the electric blue warmth spreading over his groin and up to tighten his abs as his heart beat thumps clear out of his chest.

When he comes it is rush, his face tenses with the pressure of release as he moans finally, the urge to scratch his fingernails down the back of the sofa holding him in place. A second flood comes then, as he reacts to the fact that her lips stay on him throughout, all the tension in the past four weeks - backed up still by twelve long years - at having her kept so far from him has him in pieces right in front of her knelt form.

He blinks twice, noticing that in a moment of ecstasy he's reached out for her and laced his fingers through one side of her hair, because now she's staring up at him, her lips glossy and her face flushed with a look of amusement about him at his sudden action.

Again that look in the dream flashes through his mind.

That half smirk.

The messy hair.

Bare shoulders and an unbridled acceptance of them.

It appears that the good part of the dream wasn't so removed from reality after all.

"Come here," He breathes, his hand still lost in her auburn curls and his breath still struggling to level. She arches an eyebrow, seeming to obey him in this Haley's comet of a moment as she leans back, before shuffling on her knees until her hips rest against his still slightly reactive inner thighs. His hand lowers to cup her head, reaching forward to slide his lips over hers. He's never done it before. Kissed a woman after they've been down on him. For all his adventurousness and his still solid reputation for being a bachelor and ladies man, he is almost devoid of experience as far as real intimacy is concerned. And it is intimate, tasting himself all over her, that saltiness seeming strangely sweet on her tongue.

"I take it you're...spent?" She breathes, her fingernails delicately tracing his jawline before they fold over his shoulders. He's occupied instantly by how close she is, his eyes flicking to each of hers with a boyish interest at her fresh looking face.

"Oh," He says, a forced coyness about him. "Give me five, and I'll be back on form." He promises, kissing her again, his hands lace around her waist to bring him a strange but much needed closeness.

She gives him a look, chuckling to herself as she looks down at his chest. "And by five you mean fifteen right?" She enquires.

"You're not that good." He smirks, trying to disarm her. It would have worked if he hadn't looked so damn exhausted.

She laughs then, and he finds himself smiling at the fact, his face following hers as she fidgets in his arms. "Am I not?" She questions, sighing deliberately "Oh well then...maybe you should just go find someone else to suck your dick on your birthday." She offers devilishly, pretending to move off of him.

"Oh, now. Let's not be hasty. I love mediocre." He jokes, playing with her, his hands tightening in contrast.

"You're going to get a firm knee in the balls if you're not careful." She warns on the knife edge.

"Come here, you tempestuous woman." He says, his hands flattening against the lace of her back to bring her closer to him. She smiles, her hands folding back over his and removing them, as she stands, flicking off her heels and sitting next to him as he adjusts his boxers, giving himself some kind of modesty whilst trying to regain his composure.

"I'm still waiting for my compliment." She says, stubbornly folding her arms.

"Is an orgasm and a smile not compliment enough for you?" He counters, his hands starting to wander across her form.

"Well...when you put it like that," She says then, smiling quietly into his side.

"I really want to fuck you right now." He breathes. "Like...right now. For the record." Her assures her.

"You're absolutely exhausted, aren't you?" She assumes, her voice colourful.

"It's been a very stressful day." He defends tiredly, causing her to find his eyes for the clarification. He huffs at first, before relinquishing control of his innermost insecurities. "I thought you'd forgotten." He admits then.

"About The Arrangement?" She scoffs, thoroughly entertained by the idea. "You underestimate me, Sir."

He is not amused. "Well...when you didn't mention it all day. And then you made me go out with Mike. I could have brought another woman back here, you know." He warns.

"Maybe. But you wouldn't." She tells him, countering the pinch worth of challenge in his gaze. "And Mike is your best friend. Why wouldn't you go out with your BFF on your birthday?"

"I don't know. Maybe because a month ago I planned to throughly fuck a beautiful woman instead?" He replies in a drawl.

"It's all about balance, Harvey." She tells him then, a notable blush on her face.

He huffs again. She's right of course. In principle.

"If you don't give me the heads up next time, consider the position otherwise filled." He warns grumpily.

"Is that a threat, Mr Specter?" She offers, arching an eyebrow.

"Just a friendly reminder for next time." He smirks.

"There's a next time?" She plays.

He smiles then. They're playing, but somewhere in the back he knows she can pick out the truth in his words.

"Truth be told...I was waiting on your actual present." She tells him, pushing to a stand. He immediately lacks at having her so close to him.

She's unbelievable. And unnecessary in the best possible way.

He makes a face then. "Donna. I told you. I don't need a gift."

"I know...but." She pauses, her lip twisting with a shyness. "I found something. And I thought that you should have it." She tells him, walking over to her bags, that he notices are perched on his breakfast stools.

He frowns, waiting, little until she pulls out a record and an unmarked cd.

"Wait. I have every record Dad ever featured on?" He frowns, confused.

"Kind of." She tells him, an importance in her face. "Your Dad didn't sit in for this one in the end." She tells him, handing him the vinyl. He reads the cover, a band he had heard of briefly but only had one album of.

"I found out that he was booked to play on this record but he had to cancel..." She explains.

"Why? What happened?" He asks her then, flipping the record in his hands as she slides down next to him.

"You...were being born." She says simply.

His eyes flicker to hers, observing the unusual smile on her face.

She blinks, disconnecting from his gaze to continue. "Now, despite not being on the record in the end, because he was attending your birth, of course,"

"A smart man," He adds, a warm glow of a smile flooding through his body.

She nods, handing him the cd. "This, is enhanced footage of the rehearsal process. Your Dad is barely in his mid twenties...and might I add, an already very handsome man."

"Your attraction to my father is never not going to gross me out." He tells her.

"Let's not pretend it was only one sided," She says cockily, as an erant hand runs through the side of his hair.

He's in shock at her gift, which is only minorly abated by the complete sense of satisfaction. He stares down at them both in his hands as a wave of feeling overcomes him.

He quickly places the vinyl and cd on the coffee table near them, his hands automatically sliding into her hair as his lips open against hers.

The kiss is awash with silent thank yous that would make his fragile heart break in a second if he dared to utter them to her.

He smiles against her mouth, her confused face disconnecting from his as she finds his eyes.

"So I gather you...like it?" She asks him.

He merely nods. A simple understanding between the two of them.

"I want the rest of my present now." He tells her gently as he encourages her to lean back.

"But you don't know what it is?" She says, smirking at his sudden insistence.

"It's okay. I get the gist." He assures her.

"Well, as long as I get more than a gist." She jokes, before doing as is told.

"I can give you a tip if you like," He offers, smiling against her neck as he presses her against the length of the couch.

"Just the tip?" She enquires, waiting for him to react.

He pauses then, his head titling to give her a look that borders on the kind an old librarian gives a noisy little school child.

He leans back before kissing her plainly on the lips just enough to silence her, as his free hand slides around her back, twisting to undo the two clasps there before visiting a third.

"Really...you couldn't have just worn a normal bra?" He enquiries with a huff.

"Don't pretend you don't love a good three-point challenge." She tells him, leaning back a little further against the soft slightly suede fabric as she shrugs off her bra, letting it slide down her left arm and drop down next to the couch.

"Is this what married life with you is going to be like?" He asks casually.

It knocks them both for six. He has no idea why he's even said it. He frowns for a second before the guile in him stands by the statement.

"Harvey," She breathes, her face mixing with several contradictory emotions.

He focuses on the sad note in her voice. It wreaks of everything he fears the most.

"We made an agreement. Remember?" He shrugs. "Donna?" He questions, observing her face.

"Yes. One I'm still not entirely sure that you're even ready for." She tells him flippantly, stiffening.

It's the wrong thing to say, she realises, as she watches him sit up and shake his head loosely at her comment. She immediately feels the disconnect, bringing her elbows behind herself to prop herself up, wanting suddenly to be closer to him despite the sudden silent embarrassment at painting the air a less than savoury colour.

"Maybe it's you who's not ready?" He says finally.

It hurts.

Because maybe it's true.

She sits up then, grabbing a pillow between them to cover herself, her lack of clothing suddenly making her feel vulnerable in this emotionally ambiguous moment. If you searched the nuances of her gesture, you'd see the anxiety there at being this exposed in front of him.

The Donna in the dream was comfortable. Bathed in inevitability. Calm in their two person situation.

The real one is still flying between the fence posts.

"Maybe I don't need to be...because we agreed. When you want to retire. Then..."

"How am I supposed to believe that, Donna, after nearly thirteen god damn years, that if you'll change your mind five years from now?"

"Harvey...I don't want to fight with you on your birthday," She tells him, her voice quiet.

"This isn't a fight. This is you, avoiding the question. Yet again." He presses.

"Harvey...you know that I love you," She tells him, her shoulders bending against the fact.

"But?" He asks, watching her nose crinkle with a defense.

"What?" She blinks, not catching onto his train of thought.

"There's a 'but'. What is it?" He fires at her.

"Harvey, I..." She stumbles on the words.

"Donna. What is it?"

"I..."

He shakes his head, moving off the couch.

It's a strange picture. Them both angry and nearly naked.

She rolls her eyes, as they begin to flood, watching him retreat to the liquor cabinet, pouring out a glass of his usual with a heaviness she herself has caused.

He realises that she's picked up his shirt along the way, because he can see that it's hanging around her shoulders with a button done up by the time he looks back at her. Her hand slides around the half empty glass in his hand.

He swallows with a frown, letting her take it from him. He's surprised when she lifts the glass to her lips to finish it off, The amber liquid disappearing in a swell before she places the glass back down next the clean ones, her face contorting at the acrid taste.

He takes another moment before looking at her. He feels like she's seeped into his being and taken every corner for herself. It aggravates him. There are small similarities between her and his Mother. The unimportant ones, granted, but they exist all the same.

"You want the truth?" She asks him.

He turns to her, his eyes still guarded but finally agreeing to meet his. He nods silently.

"I'm scared." She tells him.

"Of me?" He asks reluctantly.

"Of this not being capable of...withstanding something like marriage. I'm…" She pauses, shrugging defensively as she looks out into the patchy blackness of the open skyline. "You're not the only one with issues, Harvey." She answers, wrapping her hands around herself.

"Meaning?" He answers darkly.

"What if marriage...just isn't us? What if...we were not even meant to be together like that?" She offers.

His face falls then. He can't believe it's still an issue. "You don't trust me."

"It's not that," She rushes. "I just..."

"Just say it, Donna."

"Im scared that you'll regret it...and like twelve years ago, you'll make a decision that...breaks my heart all over again."

And that was it.

The Other Time.

The pinnacle of all their issues.

"You think I'll go back on it." He guesses.

She frowns then, seeming apologetic. "You've grown so much in the last two years, Harvey, but...maybe you're not husband material."

"How do you know you're wife material, huh?" He asks then. There is a softness in his voice that cracks his own defence.

She gives him a look then.

They both know the answer to that.

"I don't understand why we're even fighting about something that won't happen for at least another-" She pauses mid-sentence, the realisation hitting her words like a solid steel wall. "Oh."

She can see the words as he thinks them, in unabashed blinding gold letters.

For the first time in their relationship she realises that maybe there's a possibility that he has always been in this place.

He just never knew it at the time.

And she was too scared to ever factor such a thing.

He has the same dream - at least the first and better half of it - at least once a week now. Sometimes it changes. Alters in the details. Sometimes he wakes up in bed with her and they just...stare one another. The same twisted smirk mirroring one another's.

He'd be a liar if he said he wasn't ready.

He rolls his eyes as he watches a shy smile grow slowly on her face. "Oh come on, Donna it's not like we've only just met..."

"You're getting old and domestic...on your birthday." She notes, restraining the warmest of smiles.

"If you continue to mock me, I'll marry Rachel instead." He chides, watching her roll her eyes.

They're more than aware of his natural attraction to brunettes.

Truth is they are...effortless for him.

But he's only ever fallen for one redhead in particular. And she's enough to counter twenty brunettes.

"Will you marry me?" He finds himself asking her.

Her eyes grow wide, dazzled almost by the sentence.

"Given our agreement, of course." He stumbles on his words, taking in her expression.

"When...exactly?" She asks him.

"I have a contact at the courthouse on speed dial," He adds with a tired smile.

"Oh my god," She giggles unnaturally. "You're a-actually serious, aren't you?" She stutters.

"Aren't I always?" He replies. "Unless you want a horrific and enormous wedding that'll take six months to prepare?"

"Hmm..." She plays, her finger sliding up to her face with a comical note. "Now one means that we can lie to everybody, including my mother, which means I have the upper hand...but the other let's me dress both myself and others." She muses, before looking to him. "Harvey," She breathes, her face falling into seriousness.

"Nearly Thirteen god damn years, Donna." He warns carefully, his fingers twitching to touch her again. "I'm done."

"Okay...but what about work? This is an important condition, Harvey."

"So work part time and I'll steal Gretchen back from Louis for the rest." He answers simply.

"Harvey," She warns, giving him a look.

"You are not working for Louis again ." He tells her, before the thought is even brought to the fore. "Look, I pay your salary now, regardless what you do...I'll pay Gretchen for her time too. And who doesn't like to get paid for full time and work part time."

"Okay...let's shelve your inappropriate kindnesses for a second and focus on the fact that maybe I don't want to work part time?" She offers sternly. "Perhaps I...like, ne, love my job?" She tells him.

He is suddenly conscious of the inappropriate ideas flying around his head.

She notices the fraction of a second worth of hesitation in his face, hers tilting with a tiredness.

"Oh my god...you want me to have your baby don't you?" She accuses, a certain amount of disgust on her face.

"Well excuse me for wanting to have a family with the woman I want to marry. Most women would be flattered." He says, giving her an exasperated look.

"Most women you know are dumb as shit." She tells him.

"I object." He huffs.

This is not how his birthday was supposed to go...

And he realises then. That how he's feeling must be right, because with the way they are going it's unrealistic to wait for something that's had a lid on it for nearly thirteen excruciating years.

"Donna...it's time we moved forward." He tells her. "So...as scared as I am to say this...on my birthday...are you in...or are you out? Because...I would rather lose you now, knowing you don't want to. Than lose you five years from now at an altar."

It's a bold move. It's almost calling her bluff. Except it isn't. He means it. And he's absolutely terrified.

He loves this woman and for the first time he is absolutely ready to take a very big leap with her.

Waiting is suddenly ridiculous because other woman...are worth nothing against her.

Paula Agaard would be so proud...

He watches her eyes unfocus for a moment.

When she turns around, taking a few steps towards towards her bag, it dredges up a fear that he's been holding onto for most of his adult life. He closes his eyes, exhaling with the assured inevitably that his planned conscience always assumed on.

She doesn't want to-

Before he can process the entire thought she swings back around, her eyes defiant and concentrated on a singular thought, framed with just the right amount of undiluted fear.

"Ask me again." She tells him.

"What?" He squints.

"Ask me again." She repeats, harder this time.

He blinks, before the understanding forms, sliding onto one knee in his boxers.

It's not the most classic of proposals...he feels like an idiot, but what's new...

"Donna Roberta Paulsen. Will you marry me...within the year?" He asks. "May I also make you aware that this is a legally binding verbal contract, and open to punitive damages should you break it in the future."

She laughs then. He is a dork.

"Yes Harvey, I'll marry you." She says, a confused smile painted on her face.

He nods then, making to stand. She's suddenly dainty and shy and overtaken by his sincerity, as his fingers slide over her comfortable angles and curves.

"Tomorrow, I'm taking you to Cartier." He tells her, kissing her plainly.

"Good..." She tells him, drawing a breath. "Because we're getting married in the afternoon." She swallows, blinking with a held tension in her posture.

"What?" His widen. "I thought you...wanted the big imposing wedding?" He asks her, suddenly on the spot.

"I do. Kind of. But the overwhelming wave of terror at being legally responsible for you for the foreseeable future, kind of...trumps that."

"Donna," He frowns, suddenly worried that he's forcing the issue. It's terribly forward-thinking of him.

"No. You're right." She says, trying to calm herself in his sturdy arms. "Why wait?" She wagers. "I'm...scared. Sure. But it's my fear."

"But...you're sure?" He checks.

"I do love you, Harvey. And no man has ever been able to compete with that. And sure...work will be hard...an adjustment...but something tells me you're going to put every effort in making your sperm count...so I better enjoy my employment while it lasts." She quips, her hands falling onto her hips.

"You know that if I could have the children...I'd still go to work, but...the sentiment would be there," He tells her.

"Oh, so you're not going to be my Seahorse?" She chides, giving him an unimpressed look.

"What?" He squints.

"What? Male Seahorses have the babies." She says, rolling her eyes. "You realise there are other things besides sports, right?"

"You realise that you're ridiculous, right?" He counters.

"Says the Managing Partner who just asked his Assistant of thirteen years to marry him...tomorrow?" She points out.

She's impossible.

He knew it already but now he's sure of it. He smirks, pulling her stubborn form against him.

"You know...if I had realised that this was what you actually wanted for your birthday, I wouldn't have worked so hard on your gift." She adds pointedly.

"What can I say," He placates, sliding her hair over her left shoulder. "I'm selfish when it comes to you."

"Don't I know it," She remarks, the echoes of his voice in her familiar tone.

He smiles, turning on his heel and yanking her along with him.

"Where are we going?" She asks him.

"To the bedroom. Unless you'd like to sleep on the couch?" He turns back to offer with a smile.

"No." She sighs making step to keep up with him. "The bed sounds...adequate, I suppose." She breathes, holding in a suggestive note as their fingers lace together.

He pauses, turning back to her when they reach the open doors. "I'll get the bed replaced. Hows that?" He offers dryly.

She smiles then, fully, as his hands slides under the crinkled shirt she wears. "Oh, you know your audience," She purrs, waiting for him to rid her of the fabric.


Say you won't leave me no more
I'll take you back again
No more excuses no, no
'Cos I've heard them all before
A hundred times or more

I'll forgive and forget
If you say you'll never go
'Cos its true what they say
It's better the devil you know

Our love wasn't perfect I know
I think I know the score
If you say you love me, oh boy
I can't ask for more
I'll come if you should call

I'll be here every day
Waiting for your love to show
Yes it's true what they say
It's better the devil you know

- Abbey Road Sessions 'Better the Devil you know' By Kylie Minogue


Thought I would leave it there, and sort this as a two-parter.

I really want the writers to give Donna and Harvey an Arrangement, if they have her back as his assistant.

That's the only way that I think they can please both camps of ship and non-ship at this point.

As always, please feed the kitty!

A~