A/N: This is what happens when you get bored and your friends are bored too and you want to write them something and it ends up being that long one shot and it's no longer what could be defined as a 'ficlet'; so here's for all to enjoy. This is far from being a masterpiece but I hope it will make you smile! -fantomettexoxo
She's there.
He can feel her presence even before he opens his eyes to see her standing there in his bedroom.
"Donna?" he calls in a sleepy voice. He pushes himself up to sit in his bed and he watches her fully: she's wearing this new dress she bought last week. That very distracting black dress that hugs every curves and has a plunging neckline.
"What are you doing here? Am I late for work?" he manages to say as she's slowly approaching his bed. She's looking straight at him with determination in her eyes and suddenly, he can't remember how to breathe. That woman can kill him with one look.
She doesn't say a word, sits on the bed and pushes a hand on his torso to make him lie on his back and he can't believe this is happening.
"Donna…" he whispers her name for lack of other words.
"I noticed the way you've been looking at me lately," she says with a mischievous grin. "I wanted to release the tension before you go to work. We can't have you unfocused, right?"
He really wants to say something, he really does, but he then decides against it, as he has a history of saying things that piss her off and ruin the moment, so he just nods. She climbs on top of him and he realizes it then: that's the moment he's been waiting for. His hand travels on her thighs, under her dress, and he feels only soft skin. She isn't wearing panties under that dress and his hands almost jerk in surprise but she strokes him where it counts and he pushes a finger between her folds. She's so ready for him. All for him. He smiles likes an idiot and uses all his weight to flip her on the back. He wants to make love to her. That client he has to see at 9 can marinate in the lobby he doesn't care. The only thing he ever cared about anyway is the beautiful redhead he's about to make love to right now. Just feeling her hands caressing his back is already a delight, and when she opens herself to him and arches her body towards him like she's begging for it, he feels butterflies inside the pit of his stomach and this has never happened before. He knows it's because he's in love with her. He loves her so much and now they are finally together, she's kissing him as he's filling her, deep into her core. "I love you," he says out of breath.
There's no answer.
He's lying flat on his chest, coughing face down in his pillow.
He doesn't want to open his eyes and face reality. This has been happening more and more lately and since she bought THAT dress it already happened TWICE. He's way into his forties and he's face down lips on his pillow, his clothes sticking to his body and even if there's no one in the room he feels strangely humiliated.
Why?
He sits and gosh...he really has to take a shower and get ready to work. How is he supposed to face her at work now? Yes, it happened before, but not quite VIVID. He feels like he really just had sex with her. He remembers every detail and he knows all this seemed real because his brain just took all the puzzles pieces accumulated over the years and put them together: her perfume, how her skin feels under his fingers, the way she moaned softly when they did it 'The Other Time'.
He lets himself falls back on the bed, shit: he's screwed.
He's never been that happy to arrive at work before she does. That way, he can sits at his desk and try to focus on this document, barely acknowledging her when she comes in to drop another document. He mouths thanks, try not to look at her, especially since she's wearing that goddamn dress again. He wonders if she's doing it on purpose, testing him.
His stomach is growling and like a granted wish, a bagel and a coffee appears on his desk. 'I like when she paints her nails red', he thinks while looking at her long, white fingers leaving the coffee cup. He remembers those fingers in his back and his brain screams 'abort! abort!' but she is still standing there, too close to him, hips on his desk…'That black dress!' he internally screams. She puts a hand on whatever he's reading (what is this case about again?) and she tilts her head. "What's wrong with you today? Need to talk about it?"
"No!" he shouts, instantly realizing he sounds like he's mad at her. Which is crazy because it couldn't be farther from the truth: in fact today, he is just MADLY in love with her.
"Geez. You're snappy!" she sighs while rolling her eyes and takes a step back. "But please eat, maybe you didn't eat at all today? I told you the other day, a coffee isn't a complete breakfast Harvey."
"I'm just...I'm tired." He replies and finally looks at her, trying to look nonchalant. "I didn't get much sleep last night." (...it was the truth: he was having dream-sex with her and he bites his lip trying not to smile.)
"You are free tomorrow night, want me to call ?" Donna offers kindly.
"Ah. Huh…" He knows he can't go on very long waking up more tired than when he goes to bed but he's also mortified imagining himself telling Agard about THIS. "I'll call her myself, thanks."
Donna gives him one last look and it hurts him a little when he sees worries in her eyes but he can't reassure her.
She told him she wants more but doesn't know WHAT. He can't be the one making the first move now: she's going to think he is saying 'I love you' because he wants to make her stay.
But is she leaving?
Maybe she isn't?
It's been weeks, she's still there.
He's losing focus again. Maybe putting on a record will help? He gets up and walks to his records collection. He takes one, looks at the sleeve: he uses to listen to that record when he was a kid. His parents would put the record on and dance. It was before the betrayals and all the hurt. He was just a kid lying on the floor, coloring in his Star Wars coloring book, watching his parents being in love. Life was easy back then.
"Harvey?" calls Donna. He turns around, surprised, drops the record and as he tries to catch it before it hits the ground he bumps his head on the corner of his desk. He sees the record in his hand 'I caught it' he thinks gladly but he realizes then, a sharp pain on his head… He puts his hand where it hurts and sees blood on his fingers. "Christ!" he mutters. "You're bleeding!" Donna says while taking his hand.
"I'm okay," he replies. He just wants to listen to the record and her to go back on her side of this glass wall, but she's pulling on his hand and she says 'let's get you to the bathroom…"
He wants to resist some more but he feels the blood trickling from his forehead and there's a weird buzz in his ears so he follows her gently, holding her hand more tightly like a scared kid.
"Let me get some tissues," is the last thing he hears her say.
He opens his eyes to a pounding headache.
But he smiles because she's there, sitting next to him, on the bathroom floor holding his hand.
"You scared me!" she says.
"How long…?"
She presses a towel against his forehead. "A few minutes. The wound isn't that bad but Ray is coming, I still think it would be wise to check for a concussion."
He nods and then, he takes all his time to look at her while she's focused on his wound. It's strange that he suddenly feels so at peace with everything even though nothing has changed except that his head hurts pretty badly. With his eyes, he traces a path from her face to her chest, counting her freckles. She's so beautiful, he will never get tired of admiring her.
Then he notices: blood stains on her dress.
Blood stains on her chest.
"I ruined your dress." he almost cries.
"It's black Harvey...maybe I'll be able to salvage it…"
"I loved that dress," he whines. "I ruined everything."
"It's just a dress Harvey." she removes the towel from his forehead and gives him a stare. He gets scared then, because he knows it's about to hit her.
He can't really run away this time: he's sitting on a bathroom floor feeling dizzy so he just decides maybe he should just say it. If she gets offended he can always blame getting hit on the head and confusion, right?
"I've been very distracted by…" he tilts his head and lets out a heavy sigh while gazing at the dress.
"Okay." she just says and she can't suppress a smile. "Thanks, I guess."
"I should be the one thanking you," he replies, flirtatious. "I really appreciated the…" he stops himself before saying 'dress' and he chuckles. "You."
"Okay." she repeats again, flustered. It's not like her, to be out of words. He doesn't want to add anything. He doesn't want to make her think he's trying to make her stay.
He's just in love with her, simple as that.
She's playing with his fingers, her own fingers pressing between his. It gives him goosebumps and he's enjoying it thoroughly even if his head is pounding. He feels like a teenager and he really wants her to go for first base…
"My secretary told me I'm free tomorrow night," he starts after what seemed like minutes of hand-holding. "Maybe we could go out and buy you a new dress and then, dinner at Del Posto?"
"Is that a date?" she asks. The tone of her voice isn't challenging, it's more...hopeful.
"You want this to be a date?" he counters.
"I don't know, do you?"
He smiles. Sitting on this cold bathroom floor, his best friend of twelve years squeezing his hand with her right hand and holding a towel to his bleeding forehead with her left hand, he feels like he's had enough of running away. "Yes. I really hope this will be a date. I hope you say yes. I hope we'll go first base and maybe…"
She shuts him up with an unexpected kiss. He's surprised but quickly reaches for her face, his thumb grazing her cheek, fingers finding her hair as she darts her tongue in his mouth to touch his tongue and he whimpers against her moist lips.
His head hurts but he doesn't care. He can even taste the faint metallic taste of his own blood on her mouth but he's never been happier. He pulls her waist to get her closer, he craves feeling all of her and she's so warm against him…
"First base only Mister," she says pushing him gently and giggling. "We haven't had a date yet. Plus, that might kill you." she puts the towel against his wound again and he groans.
They both jump when Mike abruptly opens the door. "Ray is here, Harvey you have to get up."
He slowly gets up, helped by Mike. "I'm not a child," he protests. But Donna laughs. "And yet, you fainted…"
"Blame that dress!" Harvey says smiling.
"Or bless that dress?" she adds.
"Yes, both."
"Oh my...are you two…?" Mike doesn't even finish, the blood stains of Donna's face stating the obvious. He can't wait to tell Rachel. FINALLY.