Animal Kingdom
Harvey retraces the once familiar ground of his office frustration propelling the uncharacteristic pace back and forward. He accepted the step down from managing partner with rare humility, found the new/old placement of his things oddly inspiring, but the reflection bouncing off the glass walls derails any nostalgia. He's the embodiment of a caged tiger, the lights from the city below stretching out across the night like an urban safari -his kingdom- but he isn't in control of it anymore.
Robert Zane has the throne.
Well, to hell with that. The man might be able to run a law firm out of trouble but this is his rodeo, not Samantha Wheeler's. If she wants to play games he'll give her goddamn games and if she wants up on the wall so bad he'll find a hammer and nail her to the thing.
Anger twitches in his fist and he clenches it tightly only half aware it's an overreaction to the situation. She isn't Louis, he can't just barge in demanding answers with a threatening gait but that said he's done waiting around. The thin tether of his patience is about ready to snap and he twists abruptly, catching himself and freezing mid-step.
Donna keeps hold of his gaze her arm angled to fluidly pull the door closed behind her. It clicks shut separating them from the distant late night murmurs, locking her in with a heavily weighted silence.
There's a faint hint of Macallan to the stuffy air but no glass visible and she folds her arms scrutinizing him with an over-the-top analytical judgement. He isn't drunk, wouldn't be that stupid, but he is on edge and she tilts her chin wary of tearing the delicate fabric blanketing his control. "It's done."
He stares at her, squares his shoulders then frowns. "What do you mean done, how?"
"Do I have to remind you I'm Donna?" She asks, middle finger beating a slow drum against her elbow. For once she isn't trying to bait him. There's a reason her methods are covert and in this instance the less he knows the better. Her leverage is contingent on it. "I took care of it, that's all you need to know."
"Donna." A warning catches her name as it pushes through his lips. He trusts her implicitly but the insecurity from Mikes departure has slowly been chipping away at him gouging a hole big enough for doubt to ebb through. He's just one slip away from landing in the murky waters and he needs out of the dark, to be one hundred percent sure she's no longer in Samantha Wheeler's cross-hairs.
"She went after you to get to me-" he reiterates the fact, guilt pinching his voice as it hits the retracting space between them. Her steps are slow and deliberate, her expression softening in a way that embeds in his chest and he draws in a firm breath steeling himself against the advance, "Donna quit playing martyr... I need to know how worried I should be about this?"
The harsh edge contradicts the concern in his tone and she lifts her hand to his skew-whiff tie. "You mean, how worried you should be about me?" She straightens the shimmering silk, the blue glimmer catching under the dim lights of the office, and is touched when he doesn't deny it.
A few months ago he would have flinched at the intimacy but that was before Mike and Rachael's move to Seattle. With their departure came a wave of clarity. All the fear and apprehension that had been dammed up behind years of denial came crashing down under the pressure of want and desire. It wasn't so much a choice as an unstoppable force but the target on her back hasn't come from any shift in their relationship. It's been there since day one, the moment she agreed to take a bullet for him.
"Donna..." his tone is flatter, muscles involuntary pulling and expanding beneath her feather light touch. He doesn't beg. Just like he doesn't apologize or concede when he's wrong. It's a known fact that arrogance is his best defense but in rare moments hidden to the outside world, private lapses where she toys with him mercilessly, he almost enjoys the loss of control.
This isn't one of those time.
The slighted amusement falls from her mouth, the tense line of his shoulders deflecting her wandering hands and she drops them with a sigh. She can'ttell him. The information she has on Samantha isn't just damning it's personal and a catalyst for the wealth of issues surrounding the women's insecurities. It isn't her place to unearth the women's demons, not even to Harvey, but the fiery blonde lawyer doesn't know that about her character yet. As far as Wheeler is concerned the secrets are a bargaining tool and for now that's enough to keep them at an amicable cease fire.
"I convinced her to back off," she returns her arms to her front holding them in a fixed warning, "but if you find out what I know it loses all credibility and we wind up worse off than when we started. So I'm asking you to let it go, trust that I've got this."
"Anyone else..." he mumbles, lifting his head to the ceiling and shaking off the need to point out exactly what she's asking of him. Anyone else and he wouldn't be able to walk away, the irony being that he only cares because it's her being threatened but as difficult as it is, and as helpless as it makes him feel, he drops his gaze back to her in defeat. "Must be one hell of a skeleton."
"Oh it's a do-ozy," she sing-songs the affirmation but doesn't give any additional information waiting to see what he'll do with it first. Surprisingly he passes the test, yielding and even making an attempt to put aside the residual tension.
"You know I trust you Donna." There's a slight air of assumption to the statement, like most of his heart-felt admissions, because she's Donna and he expects her to read between the lines. Admittedly it's something he's taken for granted in the past and he follows up with a step forward his fingers coming to rest lightly on her elbow. He promised himself if he couldn't explain the depth of his words he would at least try to show her and slips the hand further down tugging at her waist, "better the devil I know right?"
Her eyes gleam at him, lips pushing together at the bold touch. Usually she would reprimand the public display but it's late and as far as she knows they're alone leading her to indulge him. "Exactly-" she hums skimming the edge of his lapel, "you don't need to worry, I can hold my own against Samantha Wheeler."
He doesn't doubt it. She's a force to be reckoned with but Wheeler lacks empathy, the key to understanding what's ethically correct. It's a severe disadvantage on their side and he is worried but pushes the concern down outside of his reach. If the two do go head to head he's not going to struggle with a code of conduct, he'll pay just as dirty. "Now here's an interesting idea..."
Her touch stalls at the unfinished tease, "if the words 'mud' and 'wresting' come out of your mouth, I will slap you."
"I thought you said no kinky stuff in the office." He feigns brief confusion trying to hide a smirk as her finger jabs his chest.
"If you recall, I believe I proved why we need that rule."
"Touché." His eyes glaze over recalling the failed attempt, the rumble of a laugh catching as her hips purposely brush a little to close swishing the fabric of his suit. It reduces him to the same primitive drive of a caged animal and he leans in further, his lips teasing as he entertains the game, "what's say we take this outside the office then?"
"Fine but this time you're in the handcuffs." She raises an eyebrow, not unaffected by his prowess but she's Donna. He asserts his control in every other aspect of their lives; the firm, the courtroom, all of their public engagements. She commands it when they're alone and feels a sense of triumph as he blows out a long steady breath.
"You drive a hard bargain Paulsen."
"Funny..." she jokes, skating her hands down the perfectly tailored lines of his suit, "it's about to get a lot harder."
His body's reaction is undeniable but he grapples with enough self-control to hold his own. He's Harvey goddamn Specter. It takes more than a bad pun to throw him off his game, even if the evidence is pointing to the contrary. Literally. "That was terrible."
"And yet, accurate." Her lips curve in a smirk as his eyes smolder growing darker to match his need and she knows she's won but it's hardly a victory. She wants him just as badly, the ache pooling between her thighs incessant and an involuntary groan builds in her throat as his mouth brushes her ear.
"Downstairs five minutes."
The cold air that replaces his warmth is sobering and her hands drop, at odds with the space, before folding back into her chest. "Good luck lasting that long."
He doesn't take the bait, only smirks, and his quiet surrender drives her to meet his instruction. For all their faults and inconsistent arrivals to same conclusions, sex has never been an area suffering from any miscommunications.
Unfortunately the rest of their relationship is more complicated.
"Harvey?" She stands poised by the door waiting for him to acknowledge the difference in tone. He does immediately, brows tugging together and she pushes a small smile alluding to their earlier conversation, "don't screw this up."
His nod is barely perceptible. The urge to resolve the issue with Sam Wheeler is a difficult -almost impossible- temptation for him to resist. Fortunately Donna knows him, is aware of his tendency to self sabotage and like always is there to save him from himself. It's just one of the reasons he's so goddamn in love with her and he resolves there and then to obey the command.
His kingdom, her rules.
Together they'll take back the throne.
AN: Hi guys :D I wrote this before the new promo came out otherwise it might have had a different spin. This one is definitely only a one-shot! I need to get back to my other story but always happy if anyone wants to send me prompts on Tumblr or Twitter for shorter pieces (links are in my profile).