A/N: On a cold Thursday morning, Fantomette went to the hospital to get tortured. Unfortunately, problems occurred and they had to keep on torturing her AGAIN, this time using strong drugs. She can't remember what happened but when she finally regained full consciousness she had her phone in her hand and had typed a whole one-shot in Google Doc, totally ignoring her man who was standing on her bedside.
So yeah, Darvey being OTP is apparently what this girl thinks about when she's out. How pathetic. This story stemmed from this pic, episode 515, where Harvey is in Donna's apartment.
So after a few corrections, here it is. I guess there are a few desperate Darvey fans, who probably need it as much as I do.
Please give me a sign, leave a comment, I need you (not as much as Harvey needs Donna but hey I do like to read your comments dear readers)
I sang Sarah Bareilles 'I choose you' while writing, apparently I am optimistic even when I have no reason left to be. LOL
I am not scared of the elements
I am under-prepared, but I am willing
And even better
I get to be the other half of you
Tell the world that we finally got it all right
I choose you
"You were right," he said reaching for the tumbler of Scotch on the table. He paused and exhaled loudly before he swallowed another mouthful of the warm amber liquid. She examined the man seated in the chair in front of her: his shoulders were slumped forward in defeat, he wasn't wearing a tie and had unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt. The signs were all pointing towards one direction.
"Harvey, did you have a panic attack?" Her voice was calm and quiet. He needed her on his side and she didn't want it to sound like an accusation.
He lifted his gaze to look at her, eyes dark and heavy. She expected him to deny it maybe, or at least ask how she knew. But he nodded and that's when she realized the extent of his exhaustion, caused by Mike's trial (and maybe even other events in his life: her leaving, coming back; Scottie confusing him; his emotional journey that was nowhere near the end…things she couldn't entirely understand herself even if she always thought she knew him better than anybody else did). He folded his arms on the table and rested his chin on his wrists, looking more broken than he's ever been.
"Donna, you were right," he mumbled. "I asked for the list and it's illegal. My back is against the wall and for the first time don't know what to do."
For the first time in a while, she ached to touch him.
He was broken and he needed to be fixed. They always were a team, they always were stronger together… For once she allowed the thought to cross her mind: that if only they could cross this invisible line between them and finally make their two worlds collide, maybe then she could fix him. She could make him stronger. She shook her head looking at the man sitting in front of her as she interrupted her musing. She had spent years guarding herself from him, and obviously Mike's case was disrupting the balance of their relationship, stirring something deep into the core of it, making it shift-dangerously.
"I wish I had something for you...I wish I could help you Harvey but I really have no idea what to do." He sighed loudly and she replied by slipping her hand on the table, reaching for his wrist, her fingertips brushing his skin. That was as much contact as they could allow themselves. She drew small patterns and felt goosebumps on his warm skin, automatically sending jolts of fire through her own her veins. He leaned his forehead on his arm and closed his eyes. She realized he had just given up. He had no fight left in him.
Her fingers slipped under his cuffs, feeling his pulse, realizing how loud the thumping was underneath his calm exterior. Her heart sank and she slowly removed her fingers, fully aware of how her own heart beat was starting to sing a painful tune inside her. She cleared her throat, trying to lift her fingers from his skin.
"I should make coffee, we have to think about what our next move should be."
He snapped his eyes opened, his head still on his arms, and quickly twisted his fingers around her knuckles, his index rounding her thumb.
"We should talk...about our next move." he said in a low decisive voice while raising his head, his index and thumb trapping her thumb firmly. The air around them grew thick and still, she did not expect this at all. Somehow she didn't try to pull her hand from his grasp, even if everything inside her was screaming a warning.
"Harvey, we don't have to. Not now. You have a lot…" She tried to avoid his gaze. His eyes were soft and needy, making her cheeks red. "WE have a lot going on. We should talk about this later when…"
"What if this is it?" He said. "What if there is no later? What if all this breaks us up? What if I have to go to prison? Or worse what if you have to..." He swallowed thickly, unable to finish his sentence.
She was speechless.
"Donna, I need you. I always did. Always will."
"You told me before." Her tone was flat. She saw Scottie in his office the other night.
He let her hand go, pushed his hand in his hair and slowly stood up.
"What do you want, Donna?" This time his voice was higher, lingering hints of accusations wrapped around his tone.
She got up too, to level up with him. She didn't need him towering over her in her own apartment. As a matter of fact, she could end it there, showing him the door.
"I don't know Harvey! I'm not the one who wanted this conversation. I'm back working with you. We are going to finish what I came back for. You got what you wanted. So could you plea…"
"What the hell you know what I want?" He stepped closer, angry. He angled his head and shouted at her. "How many times I've asked you what you wanted and you ALWAYS said you didn't know, or you deflected?"
He was close, too close, she could feel the heat radiating from his body. She crossed her arms, building a barrier between them.
She saw the deep breath he took. The way he closed his eyes and bit his inner cheek, engraving the corner of his lips with a little line. He opened his eyes, slowly, and asked her softly this time:
"Give me permission."
She took a step back, her eyes grew bigger realizing where this was going. "Harvey I'm not an option."
"You never were, Donna. Others are."
Something broke inside her. She unfolded her arms, letting them fall on her sides, tears prickling in the corners of her eyes.
"Harvey, I need you to choose me."
He wrapped his hands around hers, pulling her closer. "I've been choosing you every day for twelve years, keeping you safe, and that included keeping you safe from me. I don't know what you want. I've been thinking…" Now his hand was on the small of her back, his other hand squeezed her hand, slipping his fingers between her digits. He leaned closer, his breath on her neck tickled her skin. "Maybe after all, we want the same thing."
"Maybe we do," she whispered wrapping her hands his neck.
"I'm not perfect, but I'm willing to try," he said, their nose practically touching. "You know you were always the only one who made me a better man anyway."
"I guess I do," she replied licking her lips.
There was a pause before they kissed. They stared into each other's eyes while she played with the hair at the nape of his neck, his hands now pressed firmly against her back. He tilted his head and she closed her eyes as he pulled her face gently towards him, his lips brushing against hers tentatively. She giggled, flashbacks of being twelve and kissing someone for the first time. Years of waiting made it awkward. She opened her eyes, seeing him looking at her with raised eyebrows. "Please go on," she said between giggles.
He rolled his eyes and moved the hair from her neck, kissing her neck this time as he made her giggled again (she realized she's never been that nervous in her whole life). But slowly, the delicate kisses were replaced by nipping, sucking, and pulling, eliciting small moans from her throat. She wrapped herself around him as he kissed his way to her face and she grabbed his face this time, kissing him with desperation. What started slow was then something they couldn't even keep up with. He pulled her to the couch or she pushed him, she straddled his lap but he somehow ended up hovering over her and she pulled him even closer, all this resembling a dance that maybe they've started twelve years ago and never finished. It's her and it's him and she finally realized how much he wanted this, probably since always. If only she would have allowed it sooner? But maybe it was always meant to be this way: the two of them finally colliding in this mess, when they've finally reached the end of the line, the point of no turning back were all the lines are blurred between them, clothes scattered on the floor, him warm inside her.
Right in this moment, she was this woman she never wanted to be, the one who came undone under a man telling her she's his everything and the one he loves while making love to her. She exhaled, crumbling around him as he moaned something about love, right before his knees buckled and his fingernails gently scraped her skin. Her own name between his lips being whispered against her mouth as he let himself collapsed on her.
She couldn't even made sense of what happened. She barely registered that he had pull his pants up, gotten behind her, and wrapped his arms around her. Her heart was still beating like a drum in her own ears, she almost didn't hear him when he whispered behind his neck, his voice strained:
"Mike will have to take a deal…settle."
"I know." She squeezed his hand.
Her body trapped in his arms, she let calmness enveloped her like a warm blanket, pushing the fears of what might come away.
"I tried settling for less because I thought I couldn't have you," he began after a moment. "I always thought I wasn't prepared for this, because…I was scared I could lose you. Now I know I will always be scared of losing you because I love you. But I want you to know...I choose you."
