Hello, everyone. CAN YOU BELIEVE DONNA KISSED HARVEY AND HARVEY KISSED HER BACK! It's been over two weeks, but I'm still shooketh and since I already broke my 'no S7 inspired fics rule' with a one-shot before that summer finale. THEY KISSED OMG... I couldn't help but think of a situation after that moment.
so timeline wise: Pamela pop tart said 'you disappeared for nearly a year' I know I know, but I also know that the timeline mentions on the show are messy af cause [end therapy = Mike's arrest. Trial ~ 2 months, Mike in prison = 3 months (Gibbs said this). 7.01 was a month since Jessica left and 708 was 2 months of Haggis...] so, in this fic... it's now one year since 5.07 (and that's the only clue you'll get to the topic of this fic)...
This was supposed to be a one-shot, but *pretends to be shocked* it was getting rather long. So I decided to split it into two parts, here's the first and the next part should be up soonish (it's almost done).
Enjoy. And let me know what you think. X - M
ONE LAST TIME
She rolls around in her bed, a yawn escaping her lips. It's well past her normal waking hour, but she didn't get that much sleep last night. Her hand now maps out the spot next to her, the mattress still warm but empty nonetheless. She sighs softly, turns around to sit up, pulling the sheets up to cover her bare frame in the process.
She feels his stare burning her skin then and her gaze flickers up in a beat to meet the reason she was so exhausted this morning. She looks at him, standing there in the door opening to her bedroom. Clad in just his boxer briefs, hair an unruly mess and a cup of coffee in either hand. She watches him bite his lower lip, the twinkle in his eyes matching the flutter in her stomach.
"Hey."
She smiles, looks down for a moment and then back up at him. It's been four weeks, four weeks since his smile was the first thing she saw in the morning and almost every day since.
"Hey," she whispers in return, smiling brightly at him. "What's that?" she questions, motioning the two cups in his hand with a bob of her head.
He pushes himself on his feet, crossing the room to her side of the bed. "Coffee with vanilla and whipped cream," he answers, a playful grin spreading over his face as he hands her a cup, places a kiss on her forehead and sits down on her side of the bed.
She takes the cup from his hand, grins when she spots the white substance on top and brings the cup to her lips to take a sip. Humming in appreciation she glances back up at him.
He chuckles then, placing both his own and her cup aside on one of the nightstands. He brings his index finger to the tip of her nose and removes the dot of whipped cream, licking it from his finger. He brings his other hand to her face, lifting her chin and taking her lips to his. "Morning Mrs. Specter."
She smiles through their kiss, wants to tell him that's not her name yet. Instead, she just lets her head lean against his chest while his hand reaches for hers, thumb moving over her knuckles until he stills at her ring finger, circling the diamond he gave her last night.
"Morning Mr. Specter."
BEEP, BEEP, BEEP
She lets out a groan at the sound of her alarm going off this early in the morning, she moves around. Stretches an arm and blindly traces her nightstand to find the intruder. Bringing it to her face, she lifts one eyelid and growls once more at the ungodly hour it presents. She hits 'stop', drops her phone somewhere on the duvet and she rolls around now, stretching her sleeping body.
Opening both eyes this time around, she looks at the empty space beside hers. Her hand moving over the duvet, the cold greets her and it's that one last reality check to wake her up from her dreams. She lets out another sigh, closes her eyes. Can't believe that after everything she ended up having dreams about Harvey.
Deep down, she can believe it. Figures it's because it took her this long to realise her own feelings, truly figuring out the extent and meaning of those by kissing him, it's like this is her mind's way of catching up. Of telling her what her more really is, what she really wants.
Night and night again.
She pushes herself up into a sitting position, running a hand over her face. She brushes her auburn strands out of her eyes and reaches for her phone again. This time to check her messages. Pressing the home button to unlock it, the first thing that stares her in the face now is the date.
Her heart skips a beat at the realisation it's that day. Their day, and she feels betrayed by her own mind once more for not having thought about that. She briefly wonders if he will, but their calendars are still linked. If it shows on hers, it shows on his.
She wonders then if she even has to. If they'll do that again, she doesn't work for him anymore after all. But she also remembers the promise she made years ago.
[11 years ago]
"What a fucking sleaze, I hate him."
His head flickers up at the sound of her heels clicking on the floor of his office, her seven word sentence making his eyes widen and he catches her tip toe through his tiny office. He stares at her for a moment, can't remember such language to have ever left her lips before. Except maybe once, one night but he doesn't allow himself to think of it. Correction, she didn't allow him to think of it. 'We put it out of our minds and never mention it again.' He accepted that request and tried to hold up on it as good as he possibly could.
It wasn't easy.
"What?" he mutters now, not sure which unlucky man got on her bad side today and if the annoyance written all over her face is any indication at all, he knows he never wants to experience that himself.
"Hardman," she whines, all to drastically placing his glass decanter with his precious Macallan 18 and two glasses on his desk, before letting herself drop down in one of the chairs of his in the same dramatic fashion. "I'm telling you something is off."
He frowns, leans back in his chair. Now just watching her pour two drinks and it isn't even five o'clock. He holds back the teasing comments she threw in his direction about his early drinking habits. He's heard them plenty in the few years they've worked together and he knows she knows too.
"He's your boss."
She sighs, slides a tumbler of scotch over his desk in his direction. "You are my boss."
He moves the glass further to his side, fingers sliding over the cold material where hers had just been. "And he is my boss, ergo."
"Jessica is your boss."
"Pearson Hardman," he recites the name of the firm. "Same thing."
"No it isn't," she counters with a shake of her head, finally bringing her own glass to her lips, she takes a long sip. The alcohol leaving a burning sensation behind as she swallows. She catches him crooking his head, refusing to ask for an explanation yet demanding one nonetheless. "If it came down to it and you had to choose, you'd pick Jessica."
His jaw clenches and he swallows once, her words spot on but not the entire truth. He'd choose her too, he chose her before. Made her his condition before even accepting his current position here but he never told her that.
He nods then, lifting the glass to his lips and taking a sip himself. "So am I going to have to guess what happened or are you going to tell me," he counters, now curious as to what triggered this conversation in the first place. He takes another sip of the auburn liquid, waiting for her to speak but when she doesn't he narrows his gaze in on her. Telling her he wasn't going to guess.
She lets out a fake sigh at his unwillingness to play along, empties her glass in one last tug and places it back on his desk. Signalling for him to refill, she shifts over her chair and crosses one leg over the other. "You know how –"
"Harvey," Jessica marches into the senior associates office at that exact moment. Her gaze drifts from the lawyer to his secretary to the decanter in his hand for a moment, but she doesn't blink. Or comment. Instead, she tosses a file on his desk. "I need this done by Friday morning," she orders signalling the folder with a turn of her wrist before she backs away again.
He sighs, his gaze briefly landing on the redhead again who stilled her explanation when the name partner entered the office. His expression grows tense then, hands placing the decanter back on his desk leaving the two glass tumblers awaiting their refill he reaches for the blue manila folder instead. Flicking it open in one go, he scans the first document. "Shit."
She grits her teeth and holds her breath, just watching him take a glance at the content of the folder. She nods slowly as she notices the different emotions wash over his face, much like when she learned of the news herself in the first place.
She looks down at her watch then, noting the time and she takes the frown on his face as an indication of the amount of work ahead for him. She swallows, glancing back up at him but when he still looks at the file in his hand. Her decision has been made, they can celebrate another time. "We can reschedule -"
"What?" he cuts her off, now looking up at her for a moment. Gaze drifting off to the clock on his desk, he takes in the time. Now checking his calendar again, the day outlined in red, he looks back up at the redhead sitting right in front of him. "But it's…"
"I know," she answers. "I just didn't think you'd be in the mood to celebrate. Let alone have the time to."
He lets her words sink in for a moment, it certainly didn't help, but he had actually been looking forward to the evening. "I'll work late every other day if I have to," he counters. "But there's only one day that you started working for me."
She didn't expect this answer and she finds herself looking away. "Actually," she replies then, thinking about their work history. "There are -"
"Here," he cuts her off, pushing his chair back and he gets up. "I meant here."
She swallows, fights a grin that's trying to creep on her face and she covers him catching her off guard for the second time that day with a tease on his behalf. "I didn't think you'd be the sentimental type."
"Well, there's more to me than meets the eye."
"I doubt that," she laughs it off. "Seriously, Harvey," she objects. "We can just reschedule. Have dinner later this week, or order Thai Food and just stay here. I can help with Jessica's case."
He lets out a breath, knows she's only trying to help. "I have a reservation," he lies now, but he knows he can get one in. Owner, the son of a client. "Del Posto or something… That new place on tenth avenue."
She turns in her chair, looking at him again. Her face lit up at that news. "I've been meaning to go there."
He smirks knowingly, brings his hand to the pocket of his pants to pull out his phone and call in a favour. "Well, you will," he speaks. "Tonight."
"Are you sure?"
"I am," he nods. "Promise me one thing?
"What?"
"You'll never give in to me trying to reschedule," he tells her. "That we'll always have this dinner… No matter what."
She can't help but smile at the way he phrased it, not as just now her being the one to suggest a reschedule but it being him. She quirks an eyebrow then at the latter part of his statement. "What were you planning on doing to make me agree to a 'no matter what.' Even when you've been an asshole?"
He frowns, stares at her for a moment with a narrow gaze. Wonders why he's the bad guy in this scenario but he doesn't bring up the fact that she was the one to suggest rescheduling just now. "Why would I be an asshole?"
Donna crooks her head.
"Ok fine," he mutters then with a shake of his head. "Yes," he adds now. "Even if I'm an asshole and I'm sorry."
"For what?" she laughs.
"For being an asshole."
She looks at the screen of her tablet, swiping over the panel she finds herself staring at the date again. The tiny app on her screen outlined in a dark red today, it's not bigger than an inch by an inch, but the message is loud and clear all the same.
13 YEARS
Today marks thirteen years since she followed him to the firm.
She lets out a deep sigh, turns her tablet around to stop the date from staring at. She had forced herself to work today, jump into any and all little problems that needed taking care off. Busying herself to keep her mind from the date. The only problem with her being good at what she does is the fact that she can also complete all her tasks in record time, with currently nothing left to do but think about what day it is.
She rolls her desk chair back then, finds herself standing up and the motion catches her off guard. She runs the palms of her hands down the skirt of her dress, steadying herself and preparing herself for the rest of the day and she doesn't even know if tonight is still on.
There's no reason for it to be on, if she has to be honest.
For starters, she's not his secretary anymore. She's COO of Pearson Specter Litt. Specter Litt, she corrects her thoughts with a shake of her head, they officially bought out Jessica three and a half weeks ago.
Secondly, they may be on speaking terms but things weren't easy. Things weren't the way they once were, focus mostly being purely on the firm these days. A polite greeting when they run into each other, respect to one another during meetings but no late night drinks. No catching up on random events happening in the building and certainly no talking about their personal lives of any kind.
This all caused by one thing, the third and last reason. She kissed him. It's been four weeks to the day, four weeks since she took a risk and she can't even say it failed. It did exactly what she wanted it to do, clear up her own feelings. 'I just had to know,' is what she told him after and knowing was what she did indeed.
She knows she is in love with Harvey Specter.
What the kiss didn't do, was get them together. In fact, it did quite the opposite despite the fact that he kissed her back (that something she knows, she felt it. It's why she stopped it), they were more distant than ever.
He had come after her that night, found her on the roof and interrupted the moment of solitude she sought for her own sake. Her mouth still parted, lips quivering and her hands shaking when realisation of what she did washed over her. She kissed him. After nearly thirteen years of no touching of any kind, she walked up to him. Wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.
And he kissed her back.
He had yelled at her then. Demanded an explanation, paced around mumbling things about infidelity and what his mother did, loudly wondered how of all people she had been the one to put him in that position. "I thought you knew better."
When he didn't speak about his own actions, his reaction, she realised he wasn't ready to do so and might never be. She told him she did because she needed to know if her own feelings were real, that she did it to be able to move on. To let go.
The words not far from the truth, she knew eventually she would have to move on. She just didn't tell him it would take everything inside of her to let go of her soulmate. So, she apologised. Again. Making it sound like she was sorry for doing this to him and one hand she was, for putting him in this position. But she was really apologising to herself.
For falling in love with him.
She straightens her back and looks ahead. Glancing down the hallway of the fiftieth floor, she places one foot in front of the other when the coast is clear and she makes her way over to the executive's kitchen. She can't bring herself to look to her left when she passes his office. Tension too much, the situation too awkward.
She lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding when she finds the room empty. He isn't one to wander around and make his own coffee but luck wasn't exactly on her side these days. Bringing her hand to the aluminium handle, she pushes through the door and strides towards the kitchen appliances. Opening a cabinet she blindly reaches for a mug, a soft chuckle escaping her lips when she notices it's one with Louis' catchphrase.
He taps against his desk in rhythm of his own imagination. Gaze still resting in the distance, his concentration lost the moment he spotted her read hair flashing by like it had always done, but especially lately. He had looked up, smiled softly but she hadn't looked back. His fingertips hit the hard surface of his desk once more, the soft thud waking him up from his daydream, his thoughts automatically returning to the notification his calendar had given him.
13 YEARS
Today marks thirteen years since she followed him to the firm.
He only catches himself having followed her when he opens the door to the executive's kitchen, his breath faltering and his feet coming to a halt the moment he spots her. His gaze roaming over her ginger manes, the dress and he snaps out of his thoughts when she looks over her shoulder in his direction. His gaze instantly redirected on the kitchen island.
"Sorry," he hears himself mutter to break the silence, maybe explain his sudden appearance. He isn't even sure himself. He coughs once. Clearing his throat. "I just came to get something to drink," he improvises, signaling the kitchen with his hand.
She presses her lips into a thin line, nods once to acknowledge his explanation. She turns around again, gets another cup and fills it with coffee as well. Her hands automatically reaching for the vanilla and adding two drops to his cup. It still a habit she can't break. She takes a deep breath, turns on heels to look at him. Now placing the mug on the kitchen island between them, sliding it just over the half before she lets go.
He smiles softly. Can't pronounce the thank you that's on the tip of his tongue because she turns around before he gets the chance to do so. He swallows then, taking the cup she just placed in front of him in his hand. He looks down at the coffee, the gesture the closest thing to how things once were between them, yet the silence is killing him. He tries to find the words, counts to three in his head before forcing him to look up again, his gaze meeting hers in a beat. He looks away again. "It's -"
"I know," she cuts him off, slowly nodding when he looks back up and she presses her lips into a thin line.
He swallows, bobs his head up and down slowly, thinking over his approach. Didn't think it would be this hard, that's a lie. He knew it would be difficult, just hoped it wouldn't be this hard. "So…"
"We don't have to," she interrupts him once more, but she knew what he was trying to bring up. She slowly shakes her head. " I'm not your secretary anymore, Harvey."
His jaw clenches at those words, those words never easy to hear but he expected that. In fact, he's proud to call her the COO of the firm, it just irks that she's using this as a reason now. The tension becoming more tangible between them, he doesn't give up so easily though. "You weren't last year," he recalls. "We still went."
Her breath hitches in her throat, she bites her tongue as she can't find a response to that. She also remembers the promise she made all those years ago, the situation different from back in the day to even last year but his words the truth nonetheless.
He takes her pause as a win for now, her answer not an immediate no and that gives him the slightest hint of hope. He notices her turning back to face him, her lips slowly parted and he can see a hint of exhaustion on her face. Tired of what they are, he isn't entirely sure he can read the real reason behind that. If it's what he hopes it is or the complete opposite, he finds himself rambling on.
"If anything," he continues. "One last time."
The words hurting him more than he imagined they would and he swallows thickly at the idea of never having dinner with her again. He frowns, the dinner today just work related, in his mind, it's so much more.
"To properly celebrate you becoming COO as we should have done months ago."
She lets out a small breath, her shoulders dropping in defeat. "Okay," she gives in. "Eight o'clock. Don't be late," she orders with a pointed look, lifting her cup of coffee from the kitchen counter before exiting the room again.
He finds himself frozen on the spot, the cling of the door falling shut again the thing breaking his daze and he lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. A small smile now tugging at his lips, he whispers an 'okay' to himself and brings the cup of coffee she made him to his lips at last.
That was step one.
.
.
She lets out a breath, shifts over her chair. Her gaze avoiding his when his look becomes too intense. She can't place it, won't read anything into it anymore. Instead she chuckles at his comment, replies with her own story in return. She's got no clue as to why she's telling him about the theatre, but he's listening and in the moment she figures any subject is better than silence.
"Well that's that director's loss, cause you were amazing in the Merchant of Venice," he speaks then. "And in every other play."
She looks up now, her lips slowly parting in surprise. "What?" she whispers, can't help but smile a little. The grin spreading over his face too much, she looks down at her glass of cappellano. Fingertips tracing the foot of the glass, she lifts it when she catches herself doing this and she brings it to her lips to take a sip. "You've only seen me in one play, mister."
He shakes his head, laughs once. "That's what you you think," he answers truthfully.
"But -"
"I know," he continues offering her a smile. "I often said that I couldn't make it, but I've seen you in every single play. Gotten rather good at sneaking in last minute."
She shakes her head in disbelief, placing her glass back on the table. "How?"
"Bob likes a good bottle of scotch," he answers truthfully, referring to the concierge of the theatre her acting group used. "He'd let me in, had a seat for me in the back."
A laugh escapes her and she stares into the distance for a moment. Thinking about the older man he's referring to, another chuckle leaving her lips. Unbelievable.
"Sorry."
She turns around to look at the waiter appearing at their table.
Harvey crooks his head, looking at the redhead for a moment before he follows her lead and turns to face the waiter too. He nods at the younger man who came to collect their plates. He notices the waiter struggle to attain a bowl on the other side of the table and without much thought he stretches his hand to reach for it.
She stills when his fingers brush over hers, both having reached for the object. Her heart skips a beat and her gaze fixates on the man opposite of her just like his gaze rests on her. It's only a second before both of them pull back, she finds herself pressing her lips into a thin line looking away again. He struggles to regulate his breathing, his hand balling into a fist on the table as the waiter now leans in and removes the object in question from their table.
"Secondo will be served soon."
He swallows once, forces himself to look at the waiter and nod. He lets out a breath, his hand now stretching out over the table again. He fights the urge to reach for her again.
She busies her hands with the napkin on her lap. Her gaze directed down, can look at anything but him in this moment and while it was all them she can practically kill the unlucky waiter that caused this to happen if it hadn't been for the young man returning with the next course now. Providing another distraction at the moment, she smiles at the young man and turns to face her plate again.
He notices how she's avoiding looking at him. His skin still burning from their accidental touch, it far more innocent than the last time they touched but it's all he can think about now. He crooks his head, gaze resting on her red painted lips for a moment. He only realises he's been staring at her when he catches himself wetting his lip, looking away himself then he reaches for his cutlery. "Bon appetit," he whispers then.
She repeats the two words, distracts herself with the food in front of her but a few bites in she's back to square one and can't help but look at the man across the table from time to time.
The easy conversation slowly but surely starting to return as dinner progresses. She looks at him when he falls silent for a moment, takes in the way he looks down but smiles nonetheless. "What?" she can't help but ask.
"Nothing," he answers, turning back to face her. "I was just thinking about something my mom said the other day."
"Your mother?" she whispers surprised. "I didn't know you…"
He bobs his head up and down, remembers the dinner he once had with his mother, all thanks to the redhead in front of him. "It's still sparse," he answers truthfully. "But yeah, went to Boston two weeks ago. Hadn't taken a weekend off in a long time and there were a few things to figure out, so."
"That's great." She can't help but smile, she's always wanted him to reconcile with his mother. She knows his last visit months ago went alright, he told her that much but since then, the accusations he threw in her direction that one night four weeks ago aside, she hasn't heard much about it.
He smiles brightly, the contact with his family upstate isn't much but it's there and he's glad he's gotten to this point. He tilts his head to the right, watches her for a moment. Just admiring the woman that made that happen, who urged him to go see his mother in the first place. "All thanks to you."
She feels a blush appear on her cheeks and she looks down, doesn't want to take the credit. She merely asked him to go, but actually going there and reconciling was all him. She shifts over her chair once more, now crossing her left leg over her right. Her foot brushes past his leg in the movement and she swallows, hands fidgeting with her napkin once more.
He sits up straighter when her foot bumps into his leg, a shiver running down his spine and his grip on the stem of his wine glass increases. He's never one to be nervous but with her, it's always been different and this dinner is unlike anything else they've shared before. He tries to cover the tension by cracking a joke and she chuckles once but the tension only becomes more tangible.
"Tough crowd."
She looks back up now, an eyebrow quirked in his direction.
"No," he shakes his head. "I didn't mean.. I.. It's just Matt and Emily were rolling over the floor with tears after I told them this," he explains, remembering the time he spent at his brother's house. "Not that I expected you to be rolling over the floor here -"
A laugh escapes her at that statement, she brings her hand up to cover her mouth as she glances at him again.
"I shouldn't even repeat jokes," he mutters to himself, not fully realising she could hear it.
She bites her tongue now, relaxing just a little seeing how this dinner was apparently anything but easy for him either and that alone already made it ten times better. After a minute of letting him sweat it out and seeing if he managed to recover what was left of what he tried to tell her, she brings up a story his father once told her.
He smiles, shakes his head. Never knew his old man told her that particular story in the first place and where normally he'd have felt embarrassed or annoyed, right now he can only feel relieved that the silence is gone. The conversation flowing again, moving from his family to their work family. The other lawyers, rumours going around at the firm that they weren't a part of. Almost like old times and he thinks she's, just like himself, genuinely enjoying the night.
She looks back over the table in his direction, now listening to the story he's telling her about Louis and Jessica. She laughs, wholeheartedly and she notices the sparkle in his eyes that caught her attention all those years ago. She looks at him, observes the relaxed smile on his face, the way the skin near the corner of his eyes is wrinkled and if she hadn't already been in love with him, the happiness radiating off him in this very moment would have done it.
She shifts over her chair, hand resting on the table. The restaurant is dimly lit and the atmosphere screams anything but work-related-dinner. She closes her eyes for a moment and looks away, feels caught off guard by even this. They've been coming to the same place on the same date for years, never has it been so obvious that the setting is perfect for a romantic dinner as it is now.
In fact, it is the perfect romantic dinner.
It's everything she wants it to be, with him.
It's also everything it can't be.
"Harvey," she hears herself pronounce his name.
He pauses mid-sentence, at once forgotten what he was telling her in the first place. His gaze flickers up to meet hers in a beat and his smile starts to fade from his face almost at the same time as confusion settles in, they were having a good time.
Her head slowly starts to shake from left to right. "I can't do this," she tells him, her voice barely above a whisper. Doesn't want to make a scene, but now that it hit her. She can't stay. "I…" she starts reaching for her purse, panic mode kicking in. "This," she shakes her head, hand briefly motioning the table but mostly them.
The words flowing out of her next more honest than she wants to be, but she can't stop it from happening either. "It's everything I want," she adds, her voice cracking now. "But it's not… We're not... You're... I love you but I can't do this." She pushes her chair back now, dropping some bills on the table as she gets up.
"I'm sorry," she whispers. "Goodnight, Harvey."