Guys, I don't even know. So I started thinking about potential Season 2b, and was looking at spoilers (yes, there are some spoilers in this story), and started constructing an H/D narrative out of all of the spoilers (even though this will never happen, but I can dream?). For fun I also started to look at prompts that weren't filled during the fic-a-thon and incorporated them. This chapter has kings and queens (obviously, haha), Zoe, one time Harvey tried yoga, Amanda Schull's character gets to Donna, sex hair, lucky charm, jealousy, maybe someday we'll live out loud, bulletproof, please introduce me to your friends Donna, the chocolate covered finger of a man named Clark, "I love you guys," Mike slurs. "You're just like my parents," and letting our grown up pride hide all the need inside. I honestly don't know if I like this-it doesn't feel a hundred percent to me, but I wanted to start sharing and finish this before Jan 17th. This should be 1 of 6 parts. Hope you all enjoy.
kings and queens
kissingonconey
January
After the Christmas party, all the frivolity begins to wane. Hardman is gone, but clean up has to begin—in earnest. And eyes have to be kept on all loose ends, including Louis Litt.
Mike is constantly distracted, to the point that Harvey has actually considered having a personal conversation with him (they can't have distractions), and that puts more pressure on Donna to pick up the slack. She's happy to do so—it's been too long since it's been her and Harvey sitting in the one lit office in the entire building, the smell of lo mein in the air, the indiscriminate shoulder touches when they find something, the little puffs of air that comes with close laughter.
Priorities get rearranged, and things fall into the normal of a few years past. But Donna knows something is off in the cautious way he watches her leave every day, and her tentative jokes, and their quiet warm way around each other. She knows she has to start reconsidering her and Harvey after all that happened in 2012. She knows that their actions have been too telling, that they are in a place that is no longer safe.
Harvey starts realizing that something is about to happen.
Sometimes they want each other more than anything. If they knew how perfectly their fantasies intersected, they might make a move, but in some ways, it might make them even more afraid.
She would like to slide into this lap, hands clutching his collar, her kiss desperate.
He wants to feel up her skirt, to play with the edges of her lacy panties, to taste her freckles on her goosebump skin.
She wants to curl up next to him, lie in the sun with him contently, only rising to drink coffee or grab a new section of the newspaper. She thinks that even if he imagines her in his bed, he would never like that image in the aftermath.
Donna is the only woman that Harvey can see spread out in his bed in the afternoon, the only woman he considers buying take-out and daisies for, the only woman he'd like to watch a movie with or read a book too. Donna, with all her drama and jokes, is romance, and that scares him so he keeps it to himself.
He doesn't love her, she doesn't love him. But they know that the undercurrents of love are always running, alongside possibility, in their veins. They know that those rivers formed at their first glance, even though neither of them believes in love at first sight.
Donna considers talking to him, bringing it up and out into the open. On one hand, she has to get it out—both the words (she cares about him more than she should, her loyalty to him is clouding her life, she can't be Donna without him) and the sexual tension. Unfortunately, before she can make a decision, Zoe Lawford makes a large return into Harvey's life. It starts with Zoe's help on the Kolawksi case, and culminates in Donna finding a thong sticking out of one of Harvey's desk drawers.
"What the hell?" she says, trying to keep her eyes off the lacy red.
He grins. "Just a little fun for the New Year. Won't happen again, promise."
"All of the New York skyline mourns of the loss of Zoe Lawford's boobs being broadcast out your window."
"Jealous?" he says.
"Right, Harvey, I'm jealous. Let's be serious. I'm too awesome for my own good."
He laughs warmly. "And you can have any man in this city."
Later, at her desk, Donna does something she's never before: ponders their exchange, mulls it over in her head again and again like a high school girl. This is when she knows that from her side, the line is being erased.
"Fuck it," she says.
It was going and coming back that did it for her, Donna knows. With the Hardman trial she could allow herself not to think about the implications of giving in and being back at Harvey's side so easily. She doesn't do this, she thinks. She's not easy. But somehow for Harvey she always is.
He's trying with Zoe, because he knows she cares about him and she's sweet. So he keeps trying to make her happy, and be good to her. But Harvey seriously can't believe that the yoga class Zoe picked is the one Donna frequents too.
"This is weird," he whispers to his girlfriend. "I can't watch Donna do down dog."
He can though, and he watches each bead of sweat slide around her freckles and stain her sports bra. Her ass is pert and he could cup while she would grind into him. Her shoulder muscles ripple under strain, and he has the strangest urge to hands over them to relax them. Followed by his tongue, to get her going again. He wants to straddle her on top of her purple yoga mat.
Ever since she returned from the unplanned vacation, also known as her firing, he can't help but watch her and want her. And so he ends up following Donna movements instead of the instructor's.
"Let's go say hi to Donna," Zoe says cheerfully after the class.
"Sure," Harvey says.
As Zoe and Donna exchange hellos, he watches his executive assistant, now in such a different setting than their usual interactions. Her hair is up, her face is a sheen of perspiration and calm. She looks unpainted, unrefined, and so beautiful. He lets himself think it, because he's not sure what else he could think about in that moment.
"So you're trying out yoga now, Harvey?" Donna asks, turning her smile to him.
"Uh, yeah." A pause. "All the different positions, you know."
She picks up on the banter right away.
"Here I was thinking you knew all the positions like the back of your hand."
Zoe begins to laugh, and it cuts into their repartee so abruptly that Harvey and Donna both stop to stare. Donna recovers first.
"I'm glad you got him to come, Zoe. I've been harping on him about stretching his muscles for, oh, ten years."
He wonders if the reference to the length of their relationship is supposed to be a jab towards Zoe. He can tell that Donna's hurt for some reason, although he can't figure out why, but she's not usually so obvious.
"By the way, Harvey, I was just checking your messages, and Scottie called. She wants you to give her a call." Donna smirks at him, Zoe frowns, and Harvey wonders if everyone in New York knows his history.
"Thanks, Donna," he says, gritting his teeth. I hate you, say his eyes.
"No problem." Her smile is dangerous.
His dreams include both Scottie and Zoe, but the one he remembers clearly is Donna spread wide on her yoga mat, begging for him to make her scream. Twisted around each other, he fucked her hard, until her pale skin was pure red, her hair knotted, her mouth bruised from kisses. It smelled like sweat in the dream, and his bed smelled like sweat and cum in the morning, and it was like he was fifteen again.
Scottie's calls annoy her because Donna isn't a fan of her executive assistant, Maude, and because Scottie, now married, seems to be toeing a strange line with Harvey. Zoe irritates Donna because she has been taking a more permanent place in Harvey's life—and Donna can't help but feel pushed out by both Mike and Zoe now. But she hates the new ADA, Katrina Bennett, the most. Even Bennett's innocuous questions ("Oh, you worked in the ADA's office too?") seem pointed, aggressive, and insinuating.
"Why is she even here all the time?" Donna rants to Rachel. "And always at my desk at that."
"Maybe she has the hots for Harvey," Rachel sing-songs over tequila.
"Seriously, shut up." Donna sucks a lime. "But honestly, I think she has it out for me or something."
"You're paranoid."
"Not my fault Hardman set me up with that memo. I have full rights to be a little paranoid."
"You're jealous because Harvey thinks she has a nice ass." Rachel frowns. "I'm pretty sure Mike thinks the same thing. Seriously, the only time he shows any interest in anything is when she walks by."
Donna pats Rachel's shoulder awkwardly. Comfort has always been hard for her, and drunk Donna knows little else but table dancing and flirting.
"How's Mike doing?" Donna murmurs.
"You see him more than me."
This isn't true. More often than not Harvey has ventured to the associates' pen to talk to his protégé, and he has returned shaking his head. What Donna knows is that Mike isn't doing well following his grandmother's death, and that most likely (although he hasn't been tested again) Mike has returned to his smoking habits. His fight with Rachel hasn't helped things.
With other things to worry about, no one has cracked down on the kid yet, but Louis will get there soon enough, and even with Harvey's help, smoking is an offense in the office and Mike will go down.
It's problematic not only because Harvey (and hell, Donna too) likes the kid and doesn't want him fired, but also because they need that mind to protect the firm from threats right now and start winning some big cases so that all the past drama with the partners can be erased.
Rachel drains the shot. "Let's not talk about it. You and Harvey are way more important and interesting."
"You give us way too much credit."
"Do I? Ten years, Donna. It's his longest relationship." She pauses, giggles drunkenly and then nods. "He was a mess without you. He asked you to come back. What does that say?"
Donna doesn't respond.
"Look, Donna, you need to do something ridiculous. Get Harvey's attention."
Donna downs her shot too, and then orders another two. "Specifics, Rachel, specifics."
"Hm…a dirty text?"
"Too obvious."
"A dirty picture?"
"Too dangerous."
Rachel taps the table with her fingers. "Okay, how about a mildly suggestive picture that was meant for someone else that you accidentally sent to him?"
Perhaps it's not the most creative plan, but it's better than the other things that Rachel has suggested, and Donna is drunk, and Rachel is desperate for a little fun. Donna agrees.
They decide that a picture of Donna's sex hair with a suggestive message will suffice, particularly because Rachel says, "You do have the most beautiful hair, Donna," and Donna cant exactly resist a nice compliment.
They take the picture in the bathroom of the bar, like two pesky college students. Donna smudges her lipstick semi-tastefully, and musses her hair up, until it looks like she's been giving a man intense head.
"I'd want you," Rachel comments, and they collapse into giggles.
Donna captions the photo: Hope you get to this sight in real life sometime, preferably between your legs.
Three minutes later—
Harvey: I hope so too. Where are you?
Donna laughs, passes the phone to Rachel, and then responds: God, sorry, that wasn't supposed to be for you.
Harvey: Lucky I got it anyway.
Donna: It was for Mike. Cheer him up, you know. I'm at Bar Fly.
Harvey: Ugh, seriously? You have no taste, Paulsen.
Donna: I could taste you.
Harvey: Mike'll be jealous.
Donna: Zoe too.
There's a long pause in which Donna downs another shot, somewhat out of nervousness. He'll know she's playing, but it's further than it's been taken for years, and bringing up Zoe was probably a bad move. Finally—
Harvey: I'll let her be pissed for a night.
His next text comes quickly: Have a good night with Rachel, but I don't want to see you too hungover tomorrow. Cheers. And feel free to come over whenever.
She sends him a winking face, and then puts her phone back in her bag, satisfied.
"That'll do it," Rachel says, as they close the tab. "You'll have his attention now."
All she gets out of it is a large grin the next morning and a coffee that he gives her smugly. Luckily, things are better than alright for a while. The minute she brushes her hair out of her eyes, his attention goes straight to her mouth.
But despite her games, Harvey seems too enamored with his waltz between Scottie and Zoe to really pay her the attention Donna deserves (and craves). It's never been like this before. She knows she's integral. She knows that Harvey sleeps with women who aren't her. But to see him volley between two, neither of them Donna, makes her feel strangely useless and unwanted.
"So," Katrina Bennett says, "tell me about yourself, Harvey."
She stretches her long legs out, and Harvey is a man and he looks at them. He lets his eyes travel up her torso, reaches her breasts and the ends of her blonde hair. He focuses his eyes on hers, and smirks.
"I'm the best closer in this city," Harvey says. "I think that's all you really need to know, Ms. Bennett."
"You have something against the DA, Harvey? Or me? Because you haven't been very cooperative."
He moves forward, eyes locked on her. "Why don't you tell me why you're here, and then we can talk about cooperation."
Bennett inspects her nails.
"Nothing to say?" Harvey says.
"As you well know, Harvey, you and the DA are about to go head to head on a case. I'm simply here to keep this little relationship between the DA's office and Pearson Hardman amicable." She reaches out and strokes his tie. "You understand, don't you?"
"You're awful at bullshit," Harvey says, stepping away from her.
"Alright," Bennett says, leaning her head to the side sweetly. "Let's talk about something less upsetting. How about that pretty little thing you have out there, taking your calls?"
"Donna?" he scoffs. "What about her?"
"Well, tell me about her. Office gossip says you've been working together for years. Also that you have a secret love child together, but I'm not sure if I should be believing that one."
He can't help but grin. "Yeah, I keep her around. She's kind of a lucky charm."
But when he looks at Bennett, he realizes that he has said that the wrong thing. That Katherine Bennett's smile is a little bit malicious and a little bit knowing.
He stops and takes her in, sitting calmly in his desk chair. The dusky rose color of her dress. The way she weighs his baseball in his hands. Her profile in the dim January sun.
"Someone give you a promotion?"
She barely glances at him. "Someone should."
He doubles back to close his door and then returns to sit on the edge of his desk. They contrast: his dark suit and her light femininity. They've never been at such odds before, even when fighting.
"What is it, Donna?"
"Look," she says, "I'm not doing this. I'm not penciling in your dinner dates, while fielding Scottie's calls. I'm not going to put time in your schedule for Katherine Bennett. I'm your legal secretary, I'm not here to schedule your sex life. That's not what I was hired to do."
"Okay," he says, somewhat baffled.
"You could say you're sorry," she says, lightly throwing the baseball up.
"I could. And you know I'm not going to say it." He fiddles with a pen. "I respect what you do, Donna. But things are getting complicated and I need your help juggling all of these commitments."
She purses her lips. "Something's going on, Harvey. I don't like it."
He knows she means in the office, but he knows something's just going on between them too. It just is.
It rarely snows that January. Instead, Donna finds herself trekking through slushy piles of rain and sleet. When she comes home, her toes feel frozen and her boots are leaking.
February
They barely spend time together outside of work anyway, but it begins to feel like they never speak except through email and post-it notes.
They get close to making the whole tower fall once. On a Saturday.
Donna is on her way to Harvey's apartment to go over briefs. It's been a long week, and this is the only day they have to do this, even though technically they're off pay roll. He promised her take-out sushi and lots of tempura for the trouble, though.
Somehow February has retained the same high temperatures as January (this is a sign of global warming, Norma says), but that doesn't matter when the whole sky suddenly starts pouring. Coatless, unprepared Donna really has no idea where it comes from. She looks up, the sky is dark, the rain is falling, and suddenly her blouse is ruined and she's soaked.
The problem is that somehow most New Yorkers have taken courses in meteorology and know when rain is coming. Those unfortunate ones who haven't never seem to get into a cab at the right time. And Donna just keeps getting wetter as she stands on her street corner waiting for any cab to stop. She eventually takes the subway.
She looks like a mess at his door this time, which is why her frown is so affixed when he opens the door.
"Hey," he says.
"This is the worst!" she spits at him. "Look at me!"
"Why didn't you take a cab?"
She stops in his living room, turns and gives her best glare. But he isn't really interested in that, she realizes, and in the same moment she realizes that her shirt is sticking to her black and lacy bra.
"Harvey!" she snaps.
He drags his eyes up to her face. "Do you want a shower?"
She knows, immediately, that to accept would be dangerous. Stripping of her clothes in his space, wearing something that would undoubtedly be his or a past tryst's, losing the veneer of work and veering into private territory—all of that would be a poor choice. But she's freezing, so she nods quickly.
"Towels in the closet," Harvey says. "You want a sweatshirt?"
"Anything."
His grin grows lecherous, but in a good-natured way, and she rolls her eyes at him, trying to ignore the growing trepidation in her belly.
She fantasizes (again, like the she does all the time these days, it's too distracting) about all the ways it could happen.
She could be clad only in her towel, and he could ambush her and rub the droplets of water off her shoulder.
She could sit too close to him after the shower, his hands could brush the hem of the sweatshirt and that could be the end of it.
They could just look at each other, breathe the same air between their mouths.
Nothing happens of course. He has a brief spread out in front of him when she returns, and she sits far from him with an orange highlighter and gets to work immediately. There is no time to stare at each other or let his curling lips get to her or cross her legs so that the sweatshirt hitches up inappropriately.
The sweatshirt comes home with her, though. Only because her clothes are still wet.
After that Saturday, Donna removes the option of going to his apartment. It's for the best, though, when Robert Zane opposes Harvey in a case about gender discrimination in the workplace. It's hard to prove, especially when Zane seems to be at every point, ready to dispatch an army of reasons as to why Harvey's evidence is null and void.
Harvey is forced to focus, while Mike sulks about Rachel—who is not only upset about Mike's actions with the married woman, but also about the arrival of her father in Pearson Hardman territory. Zoe is a help, at least, and Donna finds herself only partially resenting the woman's presence, because it seems to sooth Harvey a little, and really that's all Donna wants for him: calm and care. Still, she has this feeling that he can't get her rain soaked hair out of his mind, or her in his sweatshirt, because he looks at her oddly now. It's not teasing or even full of possibility. It's a look of knowing, of knowing that they have been in that place of "so close" so many times and now it's not possible to not be so close—and if you're so close, and some point you're going to just be there.
But they resist, as they have always done.
Rachel cries into her shoulder one night, but Harvey wins the case, and Jessica is happy, and Mike is still like a tipping train on a track, and Donna can't help but watch Harvey through the glass of his office. The firm is falling apart, they are falling apart, but she feels the strangest sense of hope through it all, for at least her and Harvey.
He used to like quiet moments with Jessica. The talks on her couches that were about the future and their aspirations. Lately, these talks have been stressful and full of their anxieties about each others' direction.
Today he watches her carefully. She is beautiful, as always, appearing almost sewn into her purple dress. When she finally turns, she has a smile on her lips.
"Thank you for winning the case against Zane."
"Did you expect anything else?" he asks. "Especially with the firm in this state? My reputation in this state?"
He can't help but be defensive, despite her calm demeanor.
"Don't sass me, Specter," she says, but it's mirthful.
"So where are we at?" he asks quietly. "We're doing better?"
"The partners are happy," Jessica tells him.
"But."
"We're not out of the red by any measure."
"Bennett," he says.
She recrosses her legs. "You've noticed that her intentions seem less than admirable. It's difficult for me to intimidate her. She has some protection that keeps her from worrying about her position. But I don't believe she's working for the DA's office, Harvey. There would be no reason for her to be here."
"We're bulletproof," Harvey says. "Don't worry. With Hardman gone, we're going to build right back up to where we were and further than that."
They sit in silence for a moment. She stares at the glass table in front of them, and Harvey can tell that she's still nervous about their future.
"Where are we with Louis?" he asks finally.
"I see no reason to fire him, Harvey. I am keeping an eye out, of course. I just hope he can somehow realign himself with us."
"I'm never going to come close to trusting him after all that, Jessica. No goddamned way."
"You trusted Donna again," Jessica comments tartly.
He can't help but stiffen, even though Jessica cares little for the teasing yet desperate need between him and his executive assistant. "That was different. You know that."
"Just keep your eye on the ball, Harvey. Personal issues do not have a place in this firm. You might want to tell your associate that too."
"Yes, ma'am," he says, wondering how much Jessica actually knows and how much is conjecture. "You worry too much, Jessica. We're fixing this."
It is and isn't strange to run into Donna when she is out with some friends at the wine bar. They don't necessarily run in the same circles, but they have the same jazz club tastes and fine wine palates. And most of her favorite places are places that he has taken her to.
But somehow they've always avoided each other, their schedules never match up. He knows her friends by casual passing in conversation. She really only knows about the important people, the ones who call the office. It doesn't make them any less close, it just helps them keep some distance.
He can't help but call her beautiful in his mind as her white sweater clings to her frame. He can't help but stare at the man's hand on her lower back. He can't help but force a smile.
"Donna," he says, "it's nice to see you here."
She's blushing, he can tell even in the dark. It's as if he's caught her in some way even though—well, they have no obligations to each other, and he has Zoe after all. But his eyes are still fixated on that hand, the finger caressing her skin under the sweater.
"Hey, Harvey." Her voice isn't soft, but it's too passive to really seem like hers.
There's an awkward silence, and then he says, "Well, Donna, introduce me to your friends, why don't you?" He grins at them. "I'm Harvey, Donna's boss."
Someone in the group eyes him appreciatively, and sticks a hand out.
"Bella," the woman says, "and boy have we heard things about you."
"All good, I know."
She just winks, but he can't get excited, all for that hand on Donna's back.
"Bella and Colin," Donna says, gesturing. "And these two are Kate and Jeremy. And this," she stops, smiles, "is Clark."
"Clark," Harvey says, shaking hands. "Nice to meet you all. And unfortunately I'm going to have to say goodbye in the same breath. Places to be, you know."
Donna cocks her head, "Sure you don't want a glass with us, Harvey?"
"I'm not one to interrupt, Donna."
They stare at each other for a moment, and he realizes that this feels like his last chance. The way he is feeling, the guttural anxiety at Clark's hand, is a last ditch attempt at letting his want for Donna out. He wonders if Donna feels this way when Zoe links her fingers with his, and hopes, selfishly, that it is.
And at the same time, he feels that she will give up at this moment. That all the dancing around each other is just too much. That the fights between them, that the lust between them, that the stares are just too much. And he just can't stand that.
Why are they at this point, he wonders. Why couldn't they go on the way they had been for years upon years, never acting?
It's because they are inevitable, and he's known it since the first moment he accidentally touched her.
And because they are inevitable, she won't be able to give up at all. Neither of them will, and it kills them.
Circles, he thinks. Him and Donna go in circles. Sometimes he wants to halt the circle. To become a straight line. To go to the end, the two of them together, to make it there, one point to the next.
And the fact that he realizes this, propels him to embrace it.
He leans over and kisses her cheek goodbye, ignores how Clark's hand tightens on her, and goes home to Zoe, who senses his bad mood and leaves him alone.
On Valentine's Day they are smeared with chocolate, and Clark's mouth licks at her breast, and his fingers smudge at the chocolate already on her skin. There are chocolate fingerprints on her thighs.
It should be sinful dark chocolate, but when they wash each other in the shower, she can only consider words like convenience and missing.
Harvey's kiss still burns on her cheek.
Mike comes to the firm sick, a fever wracking him along with a cough.
Rachel emails Donna her concern (she's still not talking to Mike, but love is love), and Donna goes to check on him during a quick break.
He stares up at her with glassy eyes, and she can tell just by looking at him that he's burning up.
"Come with me," Donna demands, and takes him straight into Harvey's office.
"You overworked him," Donna accuses.
Harvey takes in his associate who has struggled to and finally collapsed on the sofa. "What the hell, Mike?"
The boy shrugs. "I guess I just haven't been sleeping that well. I had to make up all that work from last month."
Donna sits next to him and places a cool hand on his forehead. She finds herself stroking his hair. She is supposed to be on Rachel's side, to see Mike as the enemy, but she can't, when the poor kid is so sick and hot and guilty. Mike leans in to her.
"I threw up this morning," he says, squeezing his eyes shut. "You might not want to sit so close."
"You need to go home, Mike," Donna says softly. Harvey is still watching the two of them, and he slowly begins to nod.
"Yes," Harvey says, "you can do the work later. I won't have you throwing up at your desk. I'm not that bad of a boss."
Mike tries to crack a smile, but is still half-collapsed on Donna's shoulder.
"I'm going to get Ray to pick up some soup for you too," Donna tells him. "You need to rest. Lots of fluids." She pauses, considers, then: "Do you need me to come over after work?"
"Nah," Mike mumbles, the sleep evident in his voice. "I can take care of myself."
There's silence, and then an, "I'm sorry, Harvey."
Harvey stiffens and then forces himself forward so that he's right in front of Mike. "Look, kid, all I want is for you to get better. No apologies. You get sick."
"But the work—I'm just—I'm not doing my job right. I know Jessica's pissed, and I've gotta get my act together…"
"You're doing your job fine, Mike. Get better. I'll call you later."
"Alright, kiddo," Donna says, pulling him to his feet and ending the associate's pity party. "Go get your things, I just texted Ray. He'll be here soon."
Mike grins, and he's really no longer lucid.
"I love you guys," he says. "You're like my parents sometimes."
Donna freezes. She knows that Mike was raised by his grandmother, that for him to compare her and Harvey to his dead parents means something. That he must really see them as a twosome, a team, a pair, parents.
The thought terrifies her and makes her feel warm—to be the half of a real pair with Harvey. Not just the obvious friendship that they have, but to be parents. Two halves that create a whole making and raising a life.
"Go on," she whispers to Mike, but remains in the doorway, watching Harvey.
Harvey licks his bottom lip uncertainly and looks back until the phone at her desk rings, and they're back to work, no longer surrogate parents, two halves of a whole, but Donna and Harvey the executive assistant and her legal extraordinaire.
It's a conversation that has to happen, but Donna isn't sure she ever really wanted it to happen.
She's staring out the window of his office, watching lights turn off the buildings across, when he begins to speak.
"Zoe thinks there's something going on between us."
"Well, she was at that mock trial last year," Donna says, still watching the lights. "And everyone thought it after that little stunt that Louis played, so I guess I don't blame her. Guess you should assure her that there isn't though."
"I tried," Harvey says, and she can hear him pouring scotch behind her. "She says I just don't get it yet."
"Harvey, I am not in love with you, and I don't want to keep having this conversation with you!" She whirls around finally, only to see him extending a tumbler of scotch, which she snatches up and downs.
"Easy," he says. "That's good stuff, you know."
"Harvey."
"It just got me thinking." He straightens his tie, checks his sleeves. He is nervous. "It got me thinking—what would have to change for us to do this?"
She moves away from the window and goes towards his record collection. Her fingers touch the spines of the record holders. Her mouth is pursed.
"I don't know, Harvey. I just—this is us, and we can't go back to this if we made a move."
"We went back once," he says, spreading his hands out wide. "I kissed you and we could still work together."
"Not in the way that used to work together! I—God, Harvey I can't even touch you by accident anymore. It just feels so—I'm not innocent anymore about us. I know what we could be, all because of that goddamned kiss and I can't have us change anymore than it already has because I don't want to be apart from you, Harvey, I just don't."
He touches her hands then, his fingers linking in hers. His thumbs stroke her knuckles.
"How does that feel, Donna?"
She pulls him into a hug; their bodies together feel like a sunrise.
"I can't," she says.