Author's Notes: Well, the show screwing us over has at least awoken my urge to write! LOL. :sad face:
Thanks for all the reviews of my latest fics. I do appreciate it, and hope others will be drawn to write more as replacement for what we are not getting atm.
I'm also looking at fics to pick back up, as starting new fic may be hard, so hopefully I can push out another one this week. A _
The Time After That
By Atheniandream
As she opens her eyes, Donna Paulsen feels the alienness of her location in less than a New York Minute.
She isn't able at first, to pinpoint her exact surroundings, as a mixture of lavish ripples of white cotton envelope her form. She fights to block out the daylight coming from the large windows that shoot out at angles behind her head and trace the skyline against the rest of the room, long enough for her to take a moment on it.
Her limbs stretch, feeling out the space around her as her immediate need to know more triggers her senses. At once, a firm hand snakes around her bare back, it's soft skin and shortened nails scratching over the silk of her peach coloured slip, and her body reacts against it at first impulse, until she feels the prominent male need of the morning, and it freezes her in place, until said hand gently encourages her onto her side to turn around.
In the flash of a moment she's confronted with the last face she ever thought she'd see in a bed. Her mind shoots at all directions in an instant.
Harvey's bed.
Her former Bosses bed.
His Apartment.
Harvey.
His expression is thoughtful, entertained perhaps by her wide eyes and the shocked expression in her lips that stretches tensely to her cheeks.
"Oh Shit." She gasps, sliding against cotton to create the smallest of distances between them both
"Morning," He greets, reveling in her strangeness as his eyes focus on the day with ease.
She looks down for a split second, only to regret the decision when she understands that he is completely without apparel. Naked, to be exact. It's a sobering thought. Her eyes dart back up to view a somewhat confused frown under laughing eyes.
The second of sensations is the pounding feeling in her head, that seems to be made up of this bagpipe squeeze of her brain followed by an acid taste in her throat.
She remembers drinks. And a wedding. Mike and Rachel. The rest is completely unwritten in her mind.
"Why am I...in your bed?" She frowns, her mind riding on overdrive.
"You don't remember?" He checks, studying her, then.
She's thankful that he keeps his hands to himself, because it's only then that she has the violent memory of something missing.
Information. From the night before…
"Did we...?" She infers between them, the possibility making the pit of her stomach wider.
"Twice." He smirks in a confirmation. "You were...rather persistent." He adds with mirth, his cheekbones twitching with the remembrance of the night before. "We made out like a bunch of filthy teenagers, first, though."
She rolls her eyes, until a thought rears it's ugly head, seeming to sharpen the harsh light outside.
"I have a boyfriend." She recites. "A good one. Why the hell am I here," She breathes, half to herself.
"You really don't remember, do you?" He offers.
"Remember what, Harvey?" She accuses, her face pausing.
He rubs his face then, seeming to sober up. His chin indicates behind. "You might want to check your phone, first." He offers, before relaxing on his side.
She gives him a look, before turning and stretching over, ham-fistedly reaching for the phone to her right, as it balances precariously on the corner edge of his side table like it's thinking about jumping, like some guilty witness to a black collar crime.
She swallows, wincing at the harsh light of the screen, before turning down the brightness and delving into the inner workings of her phone.
The message to Ethan reads like this:
I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm in love with him. I should never have let this happen. Donna.
She tracks about seven calls prior to this message, and a response.
Fuck you. And your not so ex-Boss.
She swallows, slamming her back onto the mattress as her auburn curls bounce around the waiting pillow.
"You kept talking about the message last night," She hears him interject.
"The first one?" She asks, making a face.
"The second." He clarifies.
She twitches an eyebrow. Drunken Donna would not have been happy about the 'Ex-Boss' comment for sure.
Hell, she's not entirely sure how she feels about it on a second read…
"What exactly happened last night?" She asks, turning a suspicious eyebrow in her bedmate's direction.
"I….told you that...I broke up...with Paula. During dinner." He explains. "I may have been drunk by that point. It wasn't my best timing."
"Oh god…" She whines, frowning. "Really, Harvey?" She says, giving him a withering look.
"Very much yes." He confirms, his expression bending into that of a guilty little boy.
"Wait." She pauses, looking at him. "Why did you break up with Paula?" She asks, before a thought runs her way. "I mean, aside from the obvious dating your Therapist issue…" She remarks, half to herself.
He ignores her 'on the nose' remark, and instead, leans a little closer towards her. She retaliates, regaining her sense of self by slicing the duvet in half just to stop him from getting at her. It's immature, she knows that, but she's completely out of her depth. He gives her a tired look, and continues.
"We ended it...when she told me that...she knew I was in love with you. And I didn't deny it." He answers simply, if not reluctantly.
He's not really her boss anymore. It didn't take long to realise that that had never been the problem between them.
It was the two of them. They were two problems holding up an invisible one in the vain hope of it stopping them getting to this very place.
She swallows, daring herself to press on a nerve. "Are you...in love...with me, Harvey?"
He shakes his head, as if she's missed something.
For a second she believes it's a 'NO', until he leans towards her.
"Do you really think I'd have you, of all people, here, if I wasn't?" He offers, giving her a look that she hasn't seen in over fourteen years.
She narrows her eyes then, besting him. "Then say it." She demands.
He chuckles then, seeming entertained by her request. It comes as a shock. She didn't expect the response to be as receptive. "I've already said that to you." He sing songs the point. "You...were just too drunk to remember." He points out, waving a finger at her. "For your information you also threw your shoes at me. High ones." He adds, a look that borders on severe, only to soften in an instant.
"If that's true, then I think we both know you probably deserved it." She says, harshly, with an expression to match, until he grabs a firm hold of the covers, allowing himself to move a little closer to her.
"Your Ex-boyfriend was rather...put out...at my very public advances on you." He tells her candidly, his voice peeling into warm colours, causing the hair on her arms stands up on end.
"Well. If you did that at the dinner table, then...no wonder he was pissed." She replies leisurely at the thought, immediately alert in real time as she feels the heat of his body, that thrum of electricity that seems to course across his skin begin to near hers. His eyes are liquid and softer than they've been in years. She hates what they've done to her to make her this compliant in his company.
She is like a wanton moth to a very warm flame.
And it makes her feel fifteen years younger.
She realises then, that actually he has the advantage here.
That she, somehow and in improbable terms seems to not remember a thing from the night before.
His left hand slides up her right side, as her breath catches, and a swift intake of air reacts under his touch. She watches him think his way around her, as his hand rises to her cheek. She takes the time to notice that his hair is sticking out at all angles, in the most adorable way. She realises it's been months since she's even looked at him properly. He looks younger, calmer and more open than ever.
She wonders if Paula Agard is really what he needs now. Suddenly she is not the other woman anymore.
But they've both been different people, lately. To each other. To themselves. To those around them.
Part of her remains unconvinced of his train of thought, until his nose bumps against hers, and he mumbles in her ear to relax.
Yesterday, she might have been a vixen,
But today,
She is sober - to an extent - and seemingly living everything as if it were anew, with a man who seems to remember things very differently indeed.
"Donna," He whispers into her hair.
She sighs, her eyelashes fluttering closed for a moment, her face cupped in his hand.
"Yes?" She says, a question lingering on her lips.
He presses on her chin with his thumb, just enough to force her to look at him. Her eyebrows bend with doubt, even as he seems so solid. So sure. "I'm sorry I took so long." He says, the heaviness returning to his eyes. "I'm in love with you and I…" He sighs heavily, confronted with the sentiment. "I should never have made you wait to hear that." He says finally.
Whatever she may feel in the moment is overridden by the innate urge to kiss him, firmly.
When he reacts, pressing her onto her back, she remembers suddenly, the feeling of his hips pressing against hers. Her legs, long and mobile wrapping around his waist. The urgent need to get him as naked as humanly possible, and herself soon after…
They move in a way that tells her that they must have done this recently, and several times since the other time. That last night was indeed lost night in her mind, as his mouth sucks at hers, as their tongues fight, as their hands roam and their breaths mingle like practised lovers.
Years later, they'll speak of this time.
The Other Time,
And The Time After That.
And suddenly,
The history of the time in between will seem so short, so insignificant,
Against what comes after.
As always please feed the kitty!