Exception

by darveyswhiskey

"We continue to joke around, to smile, to drink, to flirt- like nothing's changed when every goddamn thing has." Season 8 darvey insert. Talking's not as easy when you've got 13 years of suppressed emotions and desires holding you back.

AN: I'm back again with yet another fic. I had to recharge my batteries this summer, but the more I write darvey, the more I realize just how much I missed doing so. I got this idea after I started watching the show, Younger, and a certain office scene sparked these visuals but with darvey.

Also, I've had a more than rough week, but I've been floored by some people in this fandom who've reached out to me in any way. You know who you are and know that your concern has left me speechless. I thank you.

I do want to give a special shout out to Etty and Elle. For putting up with me every day. For the laughs, the words of encouragement, for everything.

I hope you guys enjoy this xoxox

…

"Were you ever going to tell me?"

Donna sighs, closing her eyes for a brief second before dropping the files on his desk. She turns around, catches his stealth form standing at the doorway of his office. His brow was pinched, jaw set and hands unmoving at either side.

"I was going to tell you."

"Before or after you two went behind my back?"

"We didn't- "

"The hell you didn't!" His voice rises slightly, and she curses herself for the slight flinch his volume evokes.

"Harvey-" She tries for a gentle approach. The last thing she wanted was to get into it with him at this time of night. Or at all. Even if she saw this one coming.

He takes a couple of steps toward her, but she doesn't back down. She stands tall in her maroon Versace dress, four-inch stilettos giving her an even playing field with his height.

"You know what it is that I had to hear from Louis," he growls out the name like it was venom, "that our biggest client was going to settle instead of taking the deal we had originally agreed on?"

Donna narrows her eyes, any ounce of patience she held starting to slowly dissipate, "First of all, Dennis is not your biggest client and you know that. Second of all, why don't you tell me what's really upsetting you here?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" He throws his hands in the air by way of argument, confusion settling in the dark pools of his eyes.

She heaves out a humorless chuckle, head shaking in disbelief, "This isn't about you being pissed that Samantha and I got this settled without you, which by the way we couldn't even if we had tried because you disappeared for the entire afternoon," she sees something akin to vulnerability and guilt flash before his eyes, but she just as quickly tampers it down, "This is about you not being able to handle not being managing partner anymore."

"That's not- "

"Bullshit."

"Donna, I don't give a shit about Zane taking the reins. This is about me having to hear about this from Louis instead of you."

She recoils at his words, and for the briefest of moments she lets her heart stutter against her chest, before his words sink into her Harvey-filtered mind and she snaps, "I'm not your secretary anymore, Harvey. I don't have to tell you everything just before they happen, and I certainly don't deserve this almighty attitude you've put on just because God-knows-what has twisted your balls so tight, you can't even see straight anymore."

There's a loaded silence that settles in the room, the heaviness so palpable she thinks it could've shattered the glass that surrounded them. The halls outside are empty- carrying the mere echoes of a day's full work. She starts to hear the sound of her own blood rushing, her chest heaving with the unexpected wave of irritation that had fluttered to the surface without reservation.

They'd been riding high together lately, standing by each other like they've always done before, except more. They'd toed the line of too flirtatious looks and quips, shared drinks from the same glass and playfully stolen food like they'd done on the regular some years back. They were back to being the them they were comfortable with. But with the last couple of weeks looming over their shoulders, it'd felt different. But neither had backed down, nor questioned it.

Harvey lets his shoulders slump, his cool exterior beginning to thaw by her sole words. But he'd already exposed himself to her, the resounding frustration having been set, like a bottle that's been shaken- waiting to burst through.

Despite it, his words are quieter than before, "I'm upset because I thought this was something my goddamn friend would let me know."

"Is that what I am?"

The words slip out of her mouth before she can fully register them, and by the look in his eyes, she knows there's no backtracking now.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Donna shakes her head, taking a step to leave, "Nothing."

"No," he takes his own two steps to stop her, getting as close to the redhead without crowding her, "you don't say things for the hell of them, Donna. What did you mean?"

He ends on a softer tone, but his eyes are a mixture of curiosity and irritation. She can't blame him, though. She's been on the receiving end of too many vague comments and unresolved feelings over the years.

"It means…" she shakes her head, mouth gaping as she waits for the words to come, but they never do.

"Are you not my friend?" Harvey asks, tone low like he knew he was treading a fine line.

"Forget it, Harvey," she gives him a mirthless chuckle as she tries to leave again. But he's just as quick to stop her once more, this time his hand taking hold of her wrist. She glances down at his hand, breath hitching as she quickly realizes that the last time they touched was the night of the wedding. The night they danced.

"Donna…"

"I don't know what you want me to say," she whispers, and he tilts his head in half sympathy at the resignation in her voice.

"How about what's on your mind?"

She almost laughs at him, the uncanny way they paddle back and forth like an endless game of ping pong. Except, neither win in the end, and they're constantly left with a bittersweet taste in their mouths at the lack of clarity.

Instead, she spits out the words that have been pulling at her since the night he dropped her off at home with a goodbye on his lips, and an unfulfilled desire in his eyes.

"What the hell are we doing here?"

"What- "

"You ask me to dance, you hold me close all damn night. You chose me over your girlfriend, when I resigned just so you wouldn't have tofire me," she takes a breath, watching through her blurring vision how he gapes at her, "we continue to joke around, to smile, to drink, to flirt- like nothing's changed when every goddamn thing has."

Donna finishes on a shaky breath, blinking back the tears she refuses to let slip. She'd already let out more than she ever intended to that night, or ever, if she was being completely honest with herself.

"Donna, I don't- "

"You know what? Forget it, I can't- I can't do this right now. I don't know why I brought this up. It's late and we have work tomorrow," she moves to leave for a third time, but Harvey doesn't move. It's not his body or his hand that stops her, but his voice.

"No! You don't get to leave again!" he bellows, waiting for her to turn around before continuing, "You don't get to leave every goddamn time you drop a bombshell on me."

"Harvey- "

This time, he does move. He moves close enough to her that she can smell the aftershave on him, becomes dizzy as it envelopes her whole and suddenly she's having flashbacks to some weeks before when she tasted the bitterness off his lips.

She swallows back, eyes dropping to his mouth on a mere reflex before gazing into his eyes again, now dilated and pleading.

"You can't just… keep leaving me here, not knowing what to do every time you…" he shakes his head, his now soft-spoken words melting away that last exterior of her heart.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, a lone tear sliding down her cheek. She just as hastily wipes it off, a futile attempt to pretend it was never there. "I'm just-" Donna shakes her head, biting her lip to ground herself for a split second, "I don't know how to handle this."

"What?"

"This, us, I- for all that I claim to know, Harvey, you included, sometimes I really don't have a damn clue what we're doing here."

Harvey sighs, and for all the frustration she's brought on, he knows she's the only one who can simultaneously turn his heart inside out, and make his resolve slip away. "I thought we'd already talked about this."

Donna nods, "We did."

"You're the one who told me you didn't feel anything when you kissed me."

When you kissed me.

There's that word again, and just as easily her heart is skipping a beat and she's battling a heavy dose of denial versus acceptance.

"You're the one who told me you didn't want anything more," Donna snaps back, standing taller again, eyeing him down in a challenge to let him be the first to break.

"Well, I lied!"

She cants back at his words, his outburst surprising them both and for a moment, neither move. They're staring each other down, standing still as they let the words settle between them, letting them build onto their already heavy load of unspoken words and untimely confessions.

"Why would you-"

But before she could finish her thought, his lips are on hers and she's closing her eyes as she's enveloped in Harvey's arms. For a moment, she's frozen, hands still as her body reacquaints itself with being held by the one person she's long since denied she'd ever want to cross the line with. But when his lips move just a fraction, she's grabbing onto his biceps, leaning into him as he does the same, and they're meeting in the middle for a series of bruising kisses.

She can taste the distinct mixture of aged scotch with coffee on his tongue, her toes curling as he slides it against her own, eliciting a low moan at the back of her throat. Her mind becomes a haze as he tilts his head, cupping her jaw just so, deepening their kiss.

Somewhere in between him holding her closer and nipping at her bottom lip, they move in unison. He's backing her up against his desk, trapping her between his body and the glass top as he pours thirteen years of suppressed emotions onto her. The glass digging into her lower back makes her let out a groan, and she bites down hard on his lip.

He hisses in response and musters up little effort to hoist her up. In a frenzy neither are consciously aware of, she's wrapping her long limbs around him, pulling him close enough to where she could feel his growing need.

It's only when the stacks of papers behind her are flying and dropping to the floor, his own haste to make more room for her on the desk, does her eyes snap open. The fog begins to fade just slightly as she tries pushing him away, but he fails to read her meek attempt, and he starts a trail of kisses from her mandible to her neck.

"Harvey…"

He only hums in response, and she has to hold back a whine when his right hand kneads her breast, lips still suckling her skin.

"Harv- God, you really need to stop."

His movements slow down, but they don't cease completely, and it's only then that she realizes her hands have a tight grip on him- keeping him flush against her.

"You sure about that?" He mumbles into her skin before gently biting on the pale flesh.

No.

She can feel the smirk against her neck when she grinds into him, and if it weren't for his mouth doing wondrous things against her, she would have smacked him away.

Still, she musters up everything in her to gently pat him off, creating a sensible distance between them once he gets the hint. Donna swallows when he comes face to face with her- eyes completely onyx with arousal, lips swollen and tinted with her lipstick, hair mussed and tie slightly loosened.

When the hell did she do that?

She clears her throat, tries to straighten herself out as much as possible in her compromised position- still propped up on his desk, his body nearly molding against her.

"Not… not here, not now," she whispers, chest heaving against every breath she fights to sustain.

"Then when?" Her companion asks just as softly. He gently tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and for a moment she loses herself in his unexpected calm. Where the hell was the Harvey that would run screaming? The one that would step away as if she were on fire if she got too close?

Donna knits her brows, confusion replacing the fading, yet not completely vacant, desire in her belly. But not so deep down she knows what he means. Knows they've already more than crossed the point of no return. They'd played the game of denial, of kiss and tell and run too many times before, she's starting to get an inkling he's all but surrendered himself to whatever the hell it was they were.

She knows she should move, should shove him away and fix her clothes, to tell him they should talk, but his scent is like a magnetic pull- a heavenly mixture of sandalwood and him, and she's suddenly tracing his plump lips with her thumb, a soft "I don't know," leaving her own before she's reeling him back in.

He lets out the tiniest squeak of surprise they both know she's bound to hold over his head at some point in their lives, but in the moment, he just follows her through. She's leaning back against his desk, blindly pushing the stack of files she'd left earlier out of the way, making room for herself. It's his own hand that shoves a couple of pens out of the way, the clatter they form being drowned out by their twin groans.

It's only when his lips leave hers for the second time that night, leaving a wet trail down to her freckled chest, does reality set in when Donna hears an incoming noise.

"Shit. Harvey stop, get up get up!" She's pushing up with all the force she could muster, and when he throws her a confused glance, she's pointing her head toward the glass walls. His eyes widen when they catch what she'd been warning him about, and he's hastily moving off of her. She'd have laughed at the panic in his eyes if it weren't for the severity of the situation.

"Why the hell do you have glass walls," she hisses at him, doing her best to straighten out her dress in a hurry.

"Take it up with the landlord," he manages to lamely throw back. Both of them work in tandem to pick up the evidence of their foreplay, but they'd barely managed to organize the papers strewn about before their intruder is walking in.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were still here, Mr. Specter… Ms. Paulsen," the janitor gives them an apologetic smile.

Donna manages to find her voice first, giving the older man what she hoped was a reassuring smile, and not one giving off an 'I just got kissed senseless' look. "That's uh, that's okay, Barry, we were just-" she turns to Harvey who's frozen in place, mouth hanging open and tie still hanging lose around his neck, "working."

"Yes… right, of course, I'll just-" Barry gives them a look that tells her he doesn't believe a word that's left her kiss swollen lips. She watches as he starts picking up the mess she andHarvey made, Harvey snapping out of his trance to help out the older man.

Donna smiles at the action, but she just as quickly gets transported back to earth and she feels her face growing hotter by the second. They were making out. On his desk. And were almost caught making out. By Barry the nightshift janitor. "So, I should uh- I should start heading out. It's late and- goodnight."

Harvey shoots his head up, "Donna-" but by the time he does so, she's already outside of his office, making a beeline to the elevators.

He slumps against his desk, lips still tingling from their earlier kisses and heart still pounding against his chest. He lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing the excess exhaustion off his face.

"Rough night?" Barry asks from his place on the ground, trying his best to hide a smirk.

Rough couple of thirteen years.

Harvey scoffs a laugh, "Something like that."

…

Donna.

We need to talk.

Can you pick up the phone?

Donna lets out a groan as she lets herself into her apartment, slumping back against the door as she glances down at the dozen or so mixed texts and calls from Harvey.

When the hell did he get so damn chatty? The thought plagues her mind as she pushes herself off the mahogany, trudging toward her room and kicking off her heels in the process.

She doesn't know where this sudden need and willingness to talk came from, but she's wagering it had to do something with them making out against his desk like a couple of horny teenagers. It was as if their kiss awoke something in him, made him accessible and… eager. She wasn't sure she knew how to deal with this kind of Harvey. Where had he been weeks before when she'd kissed him?

Oh, right. Screwing his ex-therapist.

Donna shakes those thoughts out of her head, images of his anger and their arguments flashing through her mind and making her sick to her stomach. But nothing would ever compare to the fear of losing him, of making a rash but necessary- and hurtful- decision to resign, to try and make up for everything she'd done.

And as she gets ready for bed, still half in a daze as she recounts everything that'd happened between them to the day, there are only two thoughts that set her heart at ease and ablaze all at once:

He'd chosen her over the woman he'd been seeing.

And most recently that night, he'd kissed her first.

With those thoughts in mind, Donna sighs, settling into bed as she picks up her phone again. Ignoring the latest two mixed calls from the man in question, she sends Harvey a message. If only to let him know she got home okay.

I'm going to sleep. Talk later.

And with that, she turns off her phone and sets it to the side. It's only when she turns off her lamp, settles under her covers, and lets the silence in the darkness consume her, do the events from a mere hour ago wash over her in full.

Shit.

…

Shit shit shit. She was late.

Donna hops out of the cab as graciously as possible, not seeing nor caring how much money she drops onto the driver's lap, a hasty "thank you" leaving her lips before she slams the door closed.

This was all Harvey's fault. In hindsight, it wasn't, not really. She knows she'd been the one to turn off her phone the night before- thus her alarm- if anything as a poor attempt to try and block him out of her thoughts. The attempt had been futile, however, seeing as how sleep came slow and she found herself tossing and turning in between dreams too hot to bear. Every time she'd close her eyes, she'd see him. Jackass smirk in a thousand-dollar suit- or nothing at all- trailing kisses down her body like he'd done just the night before. Except his desk became his bed, and with every new dream that seeped into her subconscious, the less barriers existed between them.

She'd woken up to a loud honk from a car outside at seven, body erupted in a cold sweat, her hand having subconsciously inched closer to the alleviate the ache between her legs. Her heart still beating rapidly against her chest, she'd glanced to her right and cursed under her breath when she saw the time.

She had turned on her phone and leapt out of bed and into the shower, images of her dreams the night before seeping through to her conscious, and she'd almost indulged in some self-love that morning if it hadn't been for the reminder that she was running late. With another curse on her lips that sounded a lot like Harvey's name, she'd sprung out of the hot-turned-cold shower and got ready for work.

Red hair whipping in the wind behind her, she focuses on the clatter of her four-inch Louis Vuittons as she rushes into the firm's building. She hadn't had time for her usual morning coffee- she was tired, she was annoyed, at herself and Harvey, and no thanks to said jackass, she was horny. It only added to the ever-growing irritation that was coursing through her veins, fueling her rush toward the elevators and hoping she'd be able to sneak into her office without seeing him first.

Clutching her Saint Laurent bag, Donna surges toward the metal doors that were now in the process of closing.

"Hold the door, hold the- thanks," she breathes out once she slithers inside the small contraption. Smoothing out the invisible wrinkles on her coat, she misses the way her mystery savior smirks at her, and it's only when he murmurs a "no problem," does she snap her head up.

"Harvey."

"Donna," he drawls out her name in that way that makes her teeth clench and eyes narrow. She knows it's dumb and juvenile, but he looks too damn hot for his own good in his three-piece Tom Ford, and it's really starting to piss her off.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I work here," he shrugs nonchalantly, and his devil-may-care attitude only propels her further into an annoyed and unsatisfied state.

"You know what I mean," she snarls, taking the moment to fix the tangles her speed walk had caused on her hair.

"Actually, I don't." He turns toward her, hands shoved in his pocket, as he waits for her to make her own move.

"God, Harvey, not now," she groans, "I haven't had any coffee yet."

"Then when?"

"Later."

"Bullshit."

She turns toward him, face creased into a frown he shouldn't find so sexy, but it's her and he does. "What the hell do you want me to say?"

"I want you to tell me what the hell happened last night."

"You kissed me, remember?" She scoffs out a laugh, shaking her head as she turns toward the front again, ignoring the way the previous night's memories set her heart into overdrive. Has this elevator ever been so damn slow before?

"And you kissed me back."

"So now we're even?" At the incredulous look he sends her, she puts her hand up, "Look, Harvey, I don't know what's going on here, with… us, but I really, really can't talk about this now."

"You mean you won't."

"Excuse me?"

"You're the one who brought up this nonsense about we really are to each other last night. Or did you forget somewhere between loosening my tie and sticking your tongue down my throat."

"So, you really want to have this conversation here and now? In this goddamn elevator at eight in the morning?"

"I would like to talk about this before you go running off again," he yells, the space between them decreasing with each snarl- every word seemingly bouncing off the walls and propelling them closer together.

Donna scoffs, "That's rich coming from you."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means it's the Harvey goddamn Specter usual. Every time something gets too difficult or emotional, you run screaming. You go hide, scared and hellbent on forgetting whatever it is that you need to figure out, instead of talking it through," with me, the unspoken words hang heavy in the air.

"What do you think I'm trying to do now?" He growls, barely towering over her. She stands her ground, however, sending him what she hopes is a death glare and not a silent plea to let him fuck her in the elevator before work.

She shakes that thought out of her head, as if her thoughts were a visual etch-a-sketch and he could read right past her frustration into her formidable thoughts.

"And since when are you so willing to talk?" She makes a vain attempt to steer the main topic of conversation away, not liking how he could so easily cloud her judgment and simultaneously confuse her mind and heart.

"That's not the point, Donna," he says, gentler this time as he takes another step toward her, "We need to talk about this."

"And then what?" She exhales, hoping she didn't look as vulnerable as she felt. He was peeling through her walls with those too-soft eyes for this hour in the morning, head tilting in that sympathetic way she loathes and loves all at once. She wasn't his damn charity case and she was starting to feel that way. "We talk and then you- run off again? Get scared at the prospect of something becoming too real before you sleep with the next thing that breathes?"

His hands clench at either side, jaw setting to ground himself, "I'm not the one that lied."

"When did I-"

"A couple of weeks ago, after you kissed me. The only damn reason I never did anything about this in the first place."

Her breath catches, lungs screaming and body stilling as his words drive something sharp and painful to her chest, "How the hell can you possibly-"

"Because you wouldn't have kissed someone you didn't feel anything for like you kissed me last night!"

"That wasn't-"

"The hell it wasn't!"

Her eyes narrow to slits in a flash as a newfound of frustration curls into every cell in her body, and she steps closer to his space to spit out her next accusation, "I thought you didn't want me to do that again? Or were you too busy thinking with your dick instead of your brain to forget that little detail when you were still screwing your therapist?"

For a fraction of a second, she thought she crossed the line. For that split second his face dropped and eyes widened, she thought he was going to lose it- yell at her and tell her she was out of line. For a second that seemed to last too long, she almost wished he had.

Instead, his lips are crashing onto hers again, and it only takes her body being pushed against the cold wall of the elevator for her to respond. It was a frenzy of emotions, of hands and feelings melding together as they kissed inside the smallest space known to man. Her hands clutch at the lapels of his jacket, tugging hard and biting down just as roughly. He hisses in pain or pleasure, and it only spurs her on, sliding her tongue against his as his own hands pull her closer toward him.

She pours every ounce of frustration and love and hate and arousal into their kiss. Drowns out the voice in her head telling her they shouldn't be doing this here, in an elevator when anyone could walk in on them at any given moment. But she tells that voice to shove it when he sucks on her tongue, tasting a hint of vanilla flavored coffee on him, and it only drives her anger forward. It turns it into unadulterated desire and want for him. For him to stop talking, for them to cease any form of verbal communication for a while, just long enough to submerse themselves in this bubble of mere human need and ignore the distant echoes of suppressed feelings and revelations.

He parts from her before she could think to press the emergency stop button, to stick her hand down his expensive slacks and make him come undone by her lips and hand alone. But he seems to be thinking more clearly than she is at the moment, and that mere realization makes the already dense fog in her brain grow.

His hand tucks a loose strand of auburn curl behind her ear, just like he had done the night before. Her eyes close automatically, and when she opens them up again, he's still staring at her with the softest expression that makes her want to cry. But she blinks past the blurriness, tries to move away from him, but her limbs are frozen, muscles slack from being enveloped in his embrace for the second time in twenty-four hours.

"Harvey-"

"I love you."

Her breath catches, that ever-growing lump forming in the back of her throat and she gapes at him with swollen lips and a doe-eyed expression. She can see his admission surprised him just as much, watching his own throat bobbing, and she tries to ignore the doubt- the fear that it was a subconscious action to swallow back the words and never let them see the light of day again.

"Donna-" but before he could reassure her and himself, the elevator announces their arrival with a ding, and Harvey has never hated a sound more in his life. It seems to shake her out of her trance, however, watching in a near daze as Donna jumps out of his arms. She avoids looking at him as she picks up her purse off the floor, having been dropped somewhere in their fury of lips and tongues.

She clears her throat, waits a beat before the metal doors open, and walks out of his space and line of vision. Harvey snaps out of it when the firm's fluorescent lights make his cornea sting, having had his eyes closed for the better part of the last two minutes or so as he succumbed to a Donna induced hypnosis.

Before he can set off to find her, he feels a hand on his chest.

"What the hell happened to you? You look like you've seen a ghost."

He turns his head to watch the other name partner eyeing him up and down, forehead creased with a mixture of confusion and something akin to worry.

"It's nothing, Louis," he murmurs in a sigh, "I just have to go find Donna, so if you'll excuse me-"

"Oh, no you don't, lover boy. The princess can wait, we have more pressing terms to take care of."

"What the hell did you just say?"

"Dennis is waiting in the conference room. He's looking to reconsider our earlier offer. So, you can either go off to court the young maiden from… whatever the hell it is that has you looking so rattled, or we can try to salvage our client's reputation."

Harvey rolls his eyes, but he knows the other name partner is right, and he doesn't have the energy in him to argue with Louis, so he lets it go. He follows him toward the conference room, barely glancing in the direction of Donna's office along the way when he stops short just outside of their meeting, a frown on his face, "Did you just call Donna a maiden?"

Louis shrugs, "Shakespeare thing."

Harvey shakes his head as he reaches the door handle, "That just makes you the court jester, I hope you know that."

…

She stirs the cream into the coffee absentmindedly, trying to focus on the soft clatter of metal against porcelain instead of the ghost touch of Harvey's lips against hers.

Donna bites her lip, heaving out a sigh as she sets the spoon down on a nearby napkin, staring down at the swirling concoction she'd missed out on having earlier that morning.

Because of Harvey.

Harvey and his damn lips against hers, body hard and irresistible as he trapped her between himself and his desk. Then there was earlier. When he'd pressed her up against the elevator's wall, kissing her senseless even after the quip she'd thrown his way.

She feels like a hypocrite then. She'd been the one to bring up the subject of them the night before. She'd prodded and backed down, just as she'd selfishly accused him of doing too many times in the past. She really did want to talk- wanted to sort through their shit and settle everything, but she was so goddamn scared of losing him. Of them crashing and burning like they almost did thirteen years ago. Except, there's more to lose this time. It's over a decade's worth of history, of late nights and near misses and too many almosts she's started to lose count. Just like she feels like she might lose him.

But she hasn't, she reminds herself as she finally picks up the mug. Not yet.

She never did mean to throw caution into the wind. To all but corner him the night before, when she clearly wasn't ready to face the possibility of what they are- what they could be. Not even after he'd all but proven that he does want her- that he does love her in the same capacity she loves him. But timing was never their forte, and she curses herself for placing them in their current predicament, even if they'd already placed themselves in this limbo of uncertainty weeks before, and even before then.

"You just going to stare at it, or you going to drink it?"

Donna closes her eyes, inwardly hoping he didn't see her near jump scare, and she holds onto the mug tighter, the porcelain having nearly slipped out of her grip.

"Jesus, Harvey."

"I'm sorry," he chuckles, but the mirth doesn't quite meet his eyes as he shuffles closer to her- keeping a respectable distance between them. He watches her with peak interest as she sets the mug down, tries to stray clear of the powder pink dress that hugs her closer, the one with the too tantalizing v-cut that exposes her sun-kissed skin.

"What are you doing here?" She sighs at last, exhaustion meeting her voice when she dares to meet his line of vision. He seemed calm, and the eeriness of this continued demeanor was starting to irk her.

"I just want to talk."

His tone is soft, like he's too scared to spook her again, and she has to swallow back the guilt for being the one to place that blame on him.

"I know, Harvey, just- here? What is it with you and needing to pour your heart out at work lately, anyway?"

Harvey shrugs, but doesn't retaliate with a friendly reminder that she'd been the one to bring up their murky relationship status in his office a mere twelve hours before. She's grateful for that.

"It doesn't have to be now, but… Donna…" he takes a step toward her, "we can't just- sweep this under the rug. Not again."

"I know, I know, just-" she takes a step back, and she sends him a glare when he smirks. "What?"

"Nothing, you- you think I'm going to attack you or something?"

She rolls his eyes at his ability to joke around with her now. Of course, he'd bring humor into this when they're finally maybe possibly venturing into some uncharted and long overdue serious conversation.

"No, it's just- things get… complicated when you get close." Donna tucks her hair behind her ear, busying herself with a tangible task to ignore the sparkle in his goddamn puppy brown eyes.

He smirks at her just a little bit, unable to not relish in the moment of getting Donna Paulsen riled up, when for so many years he'd just as easily been at her mercy.

"Stop that!" She demands, cheeks flushing with a deep crimson.

"I'm sorry," he shakes his head before sobering up, "And… I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For… kissing you," at the crestfallen look she gives him, he's quick to recover, stepping toward her despite her pleads, "No, not for kissing you, I'm not sorry for that. For anything that happened last night or in that elevator. I don't regret it. Any of it."

I don't regret telling you I love you, she hears between the lines. It sets her heart racing again, the words having dulled any drive to work that day. She'd been distracted for the last few hours, successfully avoiding Harvey while he was in meetings, and when she went to help Samantha and Katrina on a new case.

The words had set part of her mind at ease, reassuring her just where he stood. But her heart had remembered all too clearly the last time he'd spoken those words, just before he left her apartment, left her gaping and confused and shaken. Because despite his words, she'd had no damn clue he would ever tell her he loved her.

And that only spiraled more panic to set in her chest, as her heart reminded her with each pull and ache just how badly she'd been hurt the last time he'd shared those three little words- when she'd confronted him about it, and he'd swiveled in his chair and told her it'd been to make her feel better. And even though she knew that wasn't it, his lack of answering to the real question then- how he loved her- still rattled her and gave her fears an incentive.

She shakes herself out of her inner turmoil, trying to ground herself back to reality with him, in the firm's kitchen with half the employees whizzing by, completely oblivious to the lovers' quarrel taking place inside. Donna breathes out then, taking low comfort in knowing they couldn't exactly continue their earlier elevator rendezvous when they weren't alone or out of sight. Still, she tried to keep their distance.

"I've been seeing someone," Harvey speaks at last. He'd watched for over a minute how his best friend seemed to space out, eyes glossy with whatever thoughts had been sucking her into a void of speech or focus. It's only after his confession does her head snap back into place, eyeing him warily and with a flash of worry and anger. "No, no, not like that," he reassures quickly, watching as her face only contorts into confusion. This was never going to be easy, was it?

Harvey rakes a hand over his hair, sighing into the space around them before he clears his throat, summoning every ounce of strength he could muster, "I've been seeing a therapist. A- good therapist."

As realization suddenly hits her, her face softens, but just as quickly it hardens again, and if he didn't know any better, she sounded protective. Or jealous.

"A- male therapist?"

He can't help it, he laughs, "Yeah, yeah, actually. He's uh- he's Louis' therapist. Go figure."

Her eyes widen, "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"You're- seriously?"

"Donna,"

"Sorry, sorry, it's just- you're getting help. He is helping you, isn't he?" And there's that protective tone again, voice growing softer as she eyes him from head to toe, almost expecting some physical evidence of that help. Except, it's all starting to make sense now.

"He is," Harvey nods, "I guess you can say he's helping me- open up more. Or at least, be open to opening up."

Donna nods, a wistful smile gracing her features, "I'm happy for you, Harvey. I really am."

"I just thought you should know. I wanted you to know, I just didn't know how to bring it up given what happened… before, when I first-"

"That's all in the past, Harvey," she quickly reassures.

"Is it?"

"Part of it, is, yeah," and by part of it, he knows she means she-who-shall-not-be-named. At least that's what Mike keeps referring Paula as, anyway, much to his own irritation and only slight amusement. "But, it's good that you're trying again. That you're getting the help you deserve."

"Thanks, Donna," he says quietly, letting them share a soft moment of twin smiles, "Anyway, that's why I was- why I disappeared the other afternoon when you-"

"Oh,"

"Yeah,"

Donna nods, flashing back to last night, before their office make out session. She feels a bit of guilt then at not having known, even though she knows she shouldn't because she didn't know… because he didn't tell her. And he didn't have to tell her, but he did, now. It sets her heart at ease, and for the first time, she feels like they could make it work. Make them work.

"I should uh- I should get back to work," she wanes out a nervous smile, suddenly feeling small and unable to figure out what to say or do. She knows they still need to talk, knows she won't hide from them forever despite the glimmer of fear that had long-since settled in her chest. But she also knows now is still not the time, and she takes comfort in his affirming nod that he knows that now too.

She picks up her now lukewarm mug, heading out, but before she can reach the door, his voice is halting her back.

"Have dinner with me tonight."

What?

"What?" She spins around so fast, he thinks she caught some whiplash from the move.

"Dinner. Tonight. You and I…"

"Harvey I-"

"Unless you prefer brunch? Although I think it's too late for that now," he shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets.

She lets out a nervous chuckle. When did she suddenly turn into a nervous fumbling mess around him? Somewhere between him kissing you against his desk and telling you he loved you, her conscious reminds her.

"You mean- like…" she swallows back the jitters rising up, making her voice waver ever so slightly, "a date?"

He sends her a look she can't quite decipher, and there's something about an unreadable Harvey that scares and excites her all at once.

"I don't want to push this, Donna," he takes a few short steps, "whatever this is, so… it can just be dinner. I just want to talk."

She bites her lip, gauging his every blink and tilt of the head, still trying as she may to study him like she'd spent the last thirteen years doing. She sighs at last, a subconscious effort to relinquish control just this once, and follow his lead. After all, she'd been the one who wanted to talk in the first place.

"Okay," Donna breathes out through a smile she hopes wasn't as half-assed as she felt it was. Her nerves were still wreaking through every crevice, and she'd almost wished the earth could swallow her whole, so she didn't have to keep feeling so damn lost, "you can pick me up at eight."

Harvey nods, and she swears she could see a hint of relief wash over his face, "it's a date… figuratively speaking," he recovers with a smile when she sends him an skeptical look.

She turns around, giving him a more confident smile as she heads toward the door. Harvey exhales at her retrieving form, letting the worries bubble out of him. But before he could fully indulge in a moment of self-victory, the redhead in question and the ultimate cause of his demise turns around, pink lips stretching into a more devious smile- one he hadn't seen in a while.

"Oh, and Harvey? Don't be late."

He grins at her, full and wide and cocky, "Wouldn't dream of it, Donna."

…

He's early. Obnoxiously early.

Harvey checks his watch for the third time in- six minutes. He sighs, halting his pacing just to rub the mental exhaustion and nerves off his temples. He'd been doing fine- at least by his standards. He'd asked Donna out on a non-date (though he not so secretly hoped it was), and he was able to keep his cool demeanor for the better part of the day. They'd crossed paths just a few times in between meetings and important phone calls, sharing awkward and shy glances every time they caught each other's gaze.

But then he went home and spent too long figuring out what he was going to wear- blue or black suit? What about the gray? And what color tie? He almost called Donna twice, wanting to ask her what color dress she was wearing so it wouldn't clash with his tie of choice. Eventually, he'd remembered the ridiculousness of the situation, and with gritted teeth and an annoyance he only held for himself, he picked a neutral navy blue tie, a "screw it" under his breath when he realized they weren't going to the prom.

Now, he was pacing the hallway outside of her apartment door at seven forty-five, sporting a gray suit and probably too much gel in his hair. He didn't want to knock- not yet. He didn't want to appear too eager, but his patience was running thin and the 206 on her door was taunting him- reminding him of another time when he exuded a confidence that only grew with his own primitive need for her.

He was somewhere between his seventh or tenth hallway lap when her door swings open. He doesn't notice her, not at first when he was turned away, but soon he's taking a step and stopping dead in his tracks when he notices her standing, hip leaning against the mahogany and a smirk on her lips.

"You didn't have to wait, you know? I told you not to be late, not early."

"I-" he clears his throat, attempting to cool his features, "how long have you been standing there?"

"Not long… can't say the same thing about you now, can we?"

She tilts her head in mockery and he mirrors the move, except he's sending her a faux annoyed look that makes her chuckle and step back, allowing him entrance.

"How the hell did you know I was out there, anyway?" Harvey asks as he steps inside.

"You shuffle your feet very loudly, you know?"

He fixes her with a side grin that makes her laugh again, and soon enough they're chuckling in her foyer, the sound light enough to lift some of their residual nerves away. But they're soon bathed in an awkward silence, gazes fixated on the other, hoping and secretly daring the other to speak up first.

"You uh, you look-" he gives her a once-over, eyes raking over her lithe form, sporting a simple black dress. Except, it was Donna and it wasn't so simple. It wasn't as low-cut as some of the dresses she wore to work- something he was both disappointed and glad for- but it held a modest slit that ran from her thigh and he had to swallow back the urge to jump her then and there.

"Cat got your tongue?" She sends him a cheeky grin, pleased with herself when her voice didn't waver, a miraculous feat when she'd been watching his eyes slowly undress her for the last couple of seconds.

"Beautiful," he finally breathes out in all sincerity.

Donna swallows back that lump again, blinking against his own soft gaze, and cursing every butterfly in her stomach for fluttering just a little too much.

"Flattery might just get you anywhere."

His eyebrows rise at her sudden flirtatiousness, and he has to shove his hands in his pockets just so he wouldn't do something stupid and pin her against the wall… again.

"So uh, you ready to go?" He manages to croak out after a beat.

Donna nods, "Yeah, I just need to grab my purse," she sends him a softer smile again, and just like that, they're back to awkward.

He follows her deeper into her apartment, watching as she scrambles in a very un-Donna like manner, all confidence slowly fading as she mumbles to herself, trying to remember where she placed her clutch.

"You okay?" Harvey finds himself voicing after too many seconds of watching her flitting from one room to another.

"Huh? Oh yeah, yeah, I just-" she shakes her head, auburn waves bouncing at the movement as she shuffles to stand in front of him, "this is a little ridiculous, isn't it?"

"What is?" He muses quietly, the corners of his mouth twitching.

Donna bites her lip, forgoing looking for her clutch to catch his curious gaze, "Are you a little…"

"Nervous?"

"Yeah," she exhales.

Harvey nods, and she can feel herself being able to breathe just a little better than before, "Hence my… hallway marathon out there."

Donna chuckles, finding the sudden ease of the situation a little calmer and before she could stop herself, she's leaning into him for support. He meets her halfway, half-surprised, but he hides it quickly, foreheads meeting on mutual sighs as he tentatively holds her waist.

"Why is this so awkward?"

"Every first date is awkward."

Her head shoots up, "I thought you said this wasn't a date?"

Harvey shrugs, "I said it was whatever you wanted it to be."

"Do you want it to be a date?"

"Do you?"

"Oscar…"

"Felix…"

They stare each other down before Donna breaks, unlocking her gaze with him to smooth out the invisible creases on his jacket, "This shouldn't be so hard- so difficult," she corrects almost quickly, cheeks flushing hot at the memory of him being hard against her during their steamy lip-locking sessions.

If he caught her slip, he doesn't acknowledge it, instead, he gently lifts her chin, watching the worry wash over her hazel eyes, turning them darker than usual, "It's us, Donna."

"That's what scares me."

Suddenly, everything becomes too real, too much an she's stepping out of his hold, but before she can venture too far, he's reeling her back in, fingers running a gentle caress on the palm her hand.

"And you don't think I'm scared?"

Her throat bobs with uncertainty, watching his irises dilate in the dim light of her living room. She knows from experience, and witnessing every one of his failed relationships, that he's not foreign to being terrified out of them when things get too emotional.

"I'm scared shitless," he continues when she doesn't say anything, "Why do you think I avoided this for the better part of a decade? Why do you think I never brought this- us- up before?

"Would you have?"

"What?"

"Brought this up- if I hadn't asked you about it last night?" She exhales through her remaining fears, watching the realization finally smooth out the lines on his forehead.

"Honestly? I'm not sure. I'd like to think so, but I'm really not sure," he ends quietly, and she hates herself just a little bit for making the guilt wash over his face.

"Well, in all fairness, I don't know if I would have brought this up again if you hadn't been so stubborn," she pokes his chest playfully, and he lets out a throaty chuckle.

"I guess that's what makes us a great team," he murmurs.

Donna nods, finally realizing just how close they're standing, and she finds herself unable to breathe again- no thanks to his proximity and the way his cologne makes her hair stand on end, leading the trail of desire to pool low in her stomach.

"So, is that what we are?"

"Hmm?"

"Partners?"

"I thought we were supposed to have this conversation over dinner," he reminds her with his own swift poke against her side, but the touch makes her jump further into his arms, a soft squeal leaving her lips in the process. "That's right, I forgot you were ticklish."

"No, you didn't," she smacks his arm playfully, and she knows they should get going. Knows they should head to continue this semi-awkward dance over some expensive risotto, and not while they were still too dangerously close to her bedroom, and yet-

"See? We can do this." He holds her tightly to him, and she follows just as eagerly, tampering down that little voice in her head telling her they should slow things down, so they could talk. Because right now, they were venturing into light flirtation, bold touches, and still skirting around any actual important issues they should bring to the table.

But he's smells too damn good, and as weird as it is to casually be in his arms, when just twenty-four hours ago she wouldn't have dared to touch his hand, it's not so weird. It feels right, and she really doesn't want to leave the comfort of his arms.

"By this you mean…?"

"Us, together. Dating."

"So you do want to date me," she impishly accuses.

"I never hid the fact."

"Are you telling me you want to go steady, Mr. Specter?"

"Will you continue calling me Mr. Specter?"

His voice is suddenly too low, and when the hell did their faces get this close? Donna exhales a nervous chuckle, willing the racing of her heart to settle just long enough to disentangle herself from his hold, but he keeps a gentle hold on her hand and she doesn't let go. It's weird, she thinks, how they can just so easily step into this playful but real banter and flirting, reminiscent of the one they shared when they worked at the DA's office. But too much has changed, and she knows they still need to have a mature, lengthy conversation about what this all really means, but just the same there is a level of comfort and familiarity in flirting and skirting the lines of venturing into dangerous territory. It was bold, it was them, and it didn't leave room for anything too daunting.

She shakes her head, ignoring his questions as a new wave of worries wash over her and she tries to busy her thoughts by looking for her purse. But Harvey's picking something up from the couch in the next second, and she darts her eyes from the black clutch to the mischievous look in his.

"You saw that earlier and didn't say anything, didn't you?"

"I plead the fifth," he shrugs.

"Harvey,"

"I didn't want to cut the night shorter than it had to be." He sends her a sheepish look that makes her laugh, stepping into his space again.

"You're an idiot."

She goes to grab the clutch from his hand, but their hands brush, and she knows it's stupid, ridiculous, when she was just in his arms, but something makes her snap as the electricity from their touch sends a ripple of desire coursing through her.

"Screw this," in a flash, she's throwing the clutch to the side, lunging into his arms and fusing her mouth to his.

He catches her, despite his surprise, holding her close as their lips move in tandem. It's a flurry of hands roaming and tongues tangling, their kisses growing bolder with each second. Her nails scrape the nape of his neck, eliciting his own growl as he gently tugs on her bottom lip.

"I thought we were going to talk," he mewls in between kisses.

"We will. After," she reassures with a sweep of her tongue that makes his pants tighten.

Harvey pulls back, fighting against the fog and blood rushing to his groin to look into her eyes, dark with raw desire. "After?"

She gives him the Donna upgraded version of a come-hither stare, pulling him toward the direction of her bedroom with nothing but a smirk and challenging eyes. "After."

"Donna…"

"Stop me if you don't want this, Harvey," but despite his plead he's still following her, like a siren calling toward him, and he's completely at the mercy of her spell.

"I- can't," he manages to croak out when they reach her bedroom.

It's crazy, this is crazy, he thinks as she guides his hand to unzip her dress. They were going to do everything right, go to dinner, hash out all their worries and concerns, all in the hopes of clearing the air and deciding whatever the hell it was they wanted to become.

But he knows there's no chance of backing out now, and it seemed like they were well on their way of becoming more anyway, so… what was the harm?

"You're thinking too loud, you know that?" She cups him through his pants, letting out a salacious chuckle when he nearly jumps, growling out a "Donna," through gritted teeth.

"Dinner can wait, this, can't," she punctuates with every stroke.

He slants his mouth over hers again, bruising and demanding as he finally lowers her to the mattress. "Talking's overrated, anyway."

…

"So, that was…"

"Yeah."

She sends him a sidelong glance, white sheet barely covering her torso as she tries to get her breathing in order. He's sending her a look she doesn't quite know how to interpret, but his chest is bare, sweaty, and rising with each inhale he takes- her face growing hot as the last hour's events flash through her mind on fast-forward.

They'd had sex. Mind numbing, toe curling, thirteen-years-in-the-making sex.

It almost feels like a blur to her, a mired of lips and tongues and skin on skin contact that makes her clench her legs. They've been here before- there was nothing foreign about the way he felt against her, the way their hips moved in unison, or how every inch of his body tasted like, the way his lips felt on her own endless expanse of ivory skin.

But, even before he entered her for the first time in over a decade, she knew it was bound to be different- to be more. It had started out as a mere need to have him close, years of suppressed emotions coupled with a day's worth of touches that had left her wanting and needy. But with every kiss and touch, every playful pull and tug, her heart stuttered more. The way he'd constantly gauged her reaction, made sure she was enjoying every moment, was okay with every pleasurable gift he was providing her with, made her fall deeper and deeper. And it wasn't until they were coming together that tears had sprung to her eyes, hiding the emotions in the crook of his neck as she gasped out his name in a repeated prayer.

She'd recovered quickly, however, watching how he slid out of their embrace with a heavy exhale. But their limbs were still tangled, legs curled into each other as a tangible attempt to stay connected. The after-glow was slowly receding, and their glances became shy and the moments became riddled with insecurity and questions neither were too brave to ask first. But neither moved.

Donna clears her throat, the taste of him still lingering on her lips, "Well… we missed our reservation."

Harvey chuckles, eyes twinkling in the half-ass light her lamp was providing them. "And who's fault is that?"

She glares at him through her post-sex haze, hair mussed, and lips swollen. She looked stunning, and he hadn't failed to tell her just that in between frenzied kisses.

"Stop that," she smacks his chest as she sits up, covering herself in an attempt to keep some semblance of modesty, "we were supposed to talk."

"Hey, I was all for talking before you… you know."

"Seduced you?" She raises her eyebrows in mock challenge.

"Enticed me, with your- womanly ways and- stuff."

Donna heckles out a laugh, "God, you're terrible at this."

"What? Talking? Yeah, I know."

Her smile softens, and she reaches out to grab hold of his hand, "You make up for it in other ways, you know."

A flash of something she thinks is worry comes over him, "I don't want you to think I only want… this, Donna. Because I don't."

"Okay…" she breathes out through her nostrils, sitting up straighter, "I guess we're really going to have the talk now."

He holds her gaze for a moment, letting them bathe in the silence for a second before he braves out his next words, "You deserve more than sex, Donna. I think we both do after all these years."

"And by more you mean…?"

The question hangs in the air like a heavy cloak of irony and a painful reminder. She flashes back to nearly a year in the past, when she'd come to him, teary eyed and confused, telling him she wanted something more, to which he'd look painstakingly panicked. It wasn't her fault she couldn't be clear with him then, when not even she knew what the hell it was that she wanted. There's a part of her now that feels an ounce of guilt, to be asking him that same question, expecting a clear answer when she couldn't give him one before.

"Everything."

His response startles her back into reality, to the them now, nearly curled together in bed after a love-making session she doesn't think she's ever going to forget.

"And by… everything… you mean…?

"Donna,"

"What, Harvey? I'm serious. I need words. Full sentences. Don't 'Donna' me. I need to know. I think after all this time I deserve that much."

"And you do."

"So?"

"So… okay, maybe talking things out isn't going to be as easy as I'd hoped," he sighs, pulling away from her hand to scrub away at his face.

Donna gnaws on her bottom lip, knowing she was in no position to mock or accuse him for lacking any words that carried coherency. Not when she'd been the one to prolong their talk, to go through everything they needed to before they delved into whatever it was they were becoming. No life jackets. No confusions or misguided assurances. Just raw trust and guarantee that they were going to work.

"Okay, let's just- start by telling me what you want."

"You," she sends him a dubious look, "Well, it's true," he quickly defends. He grabs hold of her hand again, "Look, you and I both know I don't have the greatest verbal skills when it comes to… stuff like this, but Donna… I want this."

Her eyes search his for any signs of doubt, but comes up empty.

"You're important to me. Inside of work and out- I need you, but most importantly, I want you, in every way."

"I just…" Donna sighs, and he furrows his brow at the internal struggle he could see forming deep in her eyes.

"What?"

"How do I know you're not just saying this now? How do I know you're not going to run or shut me out the next time things get too emotional? When people find out about… us, and ask you a million questions that will make you uncomfortable."

"I don't give a shit about what other people think."

"And everything else?"

He hates himself just a little bit then, for putting any ounce of worry or doubt in her mind, because he knows what it's like to carry that fear- that someone you love so deeply could potentially leave you. He doesn't think he could survive that, and he's finally seeing that she's unlikely to do so either.

"I love you," the three words leave him effortlessly, and he notices the way she gapes at him, like she'd done earlier that day- like she'd done the first time he told her. "And… I want to ask you something."

She holds her breath, half expecting him to ask her if she loved him back, or even something so ridiculous and stupid that only he'd pull at a moment like this.

"You're not going to propose, are you?"

"What? No, no," Harvey chokes out a laugh, watching as she deflates in relief just a little, "not yet, anyway."

Her body straightens up again, head cocking to the side as she becomes annoyed with his ability to throw jokes like that her way, right now.

"Harvey,"

"Hey," utilizing the hand still grasped in hers, he pulls her toward him, wrapping an arm around her as he uses his other to turn her toward him, cocooning her into him, "Did I run scared at any moment since last night?"

Ah, so this is where he's getting at.

"No," she sighs, absentmindedly playing with the bit of chest hair on his sternum, "That would be me." He stops her movements, grabbing hold of wrist gently, waiting for her to meet his eyes. "Since when are you the sensible one in this relationship anyway?"

Harvey smiles, his dimples becoming prominent, and she gets the sudden urge to kiss each one. "I've just- realized I don't want to waste any more time. And no, I didn't figure that out on my own."

"Your therapist?"

Harvey nods, "Yeah, but… you too."

Donna hums, remembering how he'd told her she helped speed the process up earlier. "So… what now?"

"You tell me what you want."

Her lips stretch in a lazy smile, the reality of the moment dawning on her again- sharing a bed with Harvey, naked, in his arms, encapsulated by his warmth.

"I thought that was obvious," she nudges her foot against his.

"That part, yeah," he grins, memories of their earlier rendezvous flitting through his mind, "but in the long run…?"

"I…" Donna sighs, a flair of dramatics covering her features as she takes a moment to look away, "I guess we can give… this… a try."

"Yeah?"

"Don't look so surprised, Specter," she leans up to peck his lips, just because she could, "I do love you too."

His brow line rises, and her heart skips at the boyish grin he gives her, "You do now, do you?"

She rolls her eyes, pulling him down on top of her, "For some reason I can't really remember right now."

"So, we're really doing this?" There's a hint of awe and uncertainty to his voice, like he needs the constant reassurance she won't stray away from him, that he's not submerged so deep into one of his dreams again.

"Yeah, we are," she leans up to kiss him again, gently suckling on his lips before pulling away.

"What about your rule?"

He looks too worried for her liking again, and she frowns, "Is that what's been worrying you all this time too?"

Harvey shrugs, leaning his head to kiss the inside of her wrist, "On and off."

"Harvey,"

"What? Can you really blame me?"

Donna sighs, "Not really, I just wished you'd told me before."

"When? When you left me for Louis or when I was dating someone else that should've been you?"

"You know I could so easily knee you in the balls right now, right?"

He hangs his head, a shadow of a smile coming over his face, "I'm sorry, I just-"

"No, no, you're right," Donna concedes, smoothing the wrinkles on his forehead, "You're right, I never made things clear either."

Harvey nods, lip caught between his teeth for a second, "So… speaking of your rule…?"

"Hmm," she pulls him down until he was fully on top now, skin against skin, "I think every rule is meant to have an exception, don't you think?"

"And what's the exception to this one?"

Donna grins, slow and wide, "You."

…

AN: Kudos to anyone who catches that little Gilmore girls reference I threw in there ;)

Also, this can work as a one-shot, but I do have ideas to expand this story to around two more chapters, nothing major. Let me know what you guys think :)