Notes:

Huge Thankyou to everyone who reviewed this! Here's the Second Part. The series has got my writing in a SERIOUS funk atm, trying to find inspiration that is the Myre of Darvey Post-Season 5.A. Blame Korsch and ship inconsistencies. On the plus side, rewatched the new series with my cuz who was behind and they loved it! A~

ALSO: I'm aware that Donna isn't Donna so much. I've been thinking that the only way they can move forward is if she changes her behaviour in relation to Harvey. She's very careful not overstep her bounds and this restricts their growth. Snarky Donna probably won't be as snarky once Harvey nails her down… Just food for thought.

Let me know if this needs Beta-ing and I'll fix tomorrow. It's only had a read-through. x A x


Dedicated to all the shippers out there who feel that occasionally futile sense of despair at their SHIP not being correctly SHIPPED.. x


The Arrangement - Part Two


This isn't sometimes

yeah, its for always

if I'm gonna love you with all of my heart

and if there is no more time,

this always remains.

even as the world spins itself apart...

cuz i remember them days i waited so patiently

for god to bring someone who's gonna be good to me

and then he blessed my soul

well, i traveled a long way

and it took a long time to find you...

but i finally found you…

i remember all them lonely days

i traveled out on my own

then you brought me everything

ya made my house a home

if its not the real deal then i don't know it

cuz it show does feel, and i think it sho does show

i remember all them days i waited so patiently

until god brought someone who's gonna be good to me

and he blessed my soul...

But, I traveled a long way

And it took a long time...

to find you...but, I did find you...

and he blessed my soul...

Alabama Shakes 'I Found You'


His eyes open in a snap, disconnecting from a dream he must have been having moments before; one with changing faces and poignant words that don't make the kind of sense that he needs them to at this early hour.

His gaze moves from a blur of burnt orange into a half focus. A smirk grows with an eagerness on his face in the examining of vivid curls and the groove of a hunched form that disappears underneath the comforter. He blinks against the lopsided smile that appears on his face as he takes in the view of her porcelain and tan-freckled back. For a moment he's between decisions of whether to wake her or not, settling instead on the rare moment of silence from a usually ballsy woman.

For the record, this is nothing like that dream.

There is a finality to her being here in his bed. With him. It's a first. A first in what he now realises is twelve very long years.

He's not smirking awkwardly. There is no awkwardness. If anything he's grinning like a Cheshire cat, his eyebrows twitching like a tail.

There is also another first. In this scenario, he's still in his own bed. The other women of his past would have woken up to the sight of him, fully dressed and waiting for them to take pause of his fast paced life and finding him lacking there.

Even with Scottie, his longest romantic relationship to date, he often woke up to her leaving. To her being dressed and teasing him out of bed. Their relationship had been a constant fight. A duel between two lovers where he was always struggling to come out on top.

Today, he'd give it all up. He would surrender. The fighting. The moving. The fast lane. He'd give up every bit of his day just to keep himself suspended in this one fragile moment.

He's quit before. She's been fired. She even left him. And her not being there was always filled with a cavernous emptiness.

So, he's staying exactly where he is for as long as she does.

He's sort of ridiculous. And he knows that now. Acknowledges it whole-heartedly.

He stirs, stretching out his left shoulder as he feels her begin to wake beside him. His eyebrow raises when he hears her sigh, but she doesn't appear to move. He can't see her face, and the fact makes him unnecessarily anxious.

For a second he's wondering if it's all been a mistake. If she's just realised some awful error in being here, in his bed.

She turns slowly, just enough to peer at him over her shoulder with a deliberate coyness.

The way she looks at him like this has all the makings to ruin him. Fluffy haired and dewy faced. He smirks in defence as she examines him.

"Morning...Harvey." Her voice plays, a softness of colour in it.

"Morning, Donna," He sighs, a twist of a smirk forming as he watches her from his side of the bed.

There is the faintest sense of a stand-off between them. Playfully electric and heightening the crisp morning air.

He'd never admit it, but he is out of his depth now. He's unsure, again, anxious, that she could have somehow changed her mind between last night and the morning. As if it didn't matter what connection they had, or that the sex was that great - and god, he was learning all sorts of interesting things about her - that come morning she would think it had all been a frivolous attempt to get her into bed again, for old time's sake and call bullshit on the entire situation.

She wouldn't have been far off, though. Difference was, though...he intended to keep her this time.

She turns then, and he can't help but notice the gentle roll of the comforter and the slow slide of his silk sheet across her breasts as she turns to face him fully.

Her hair is untamed and bigger than she wears it these days, and he's wondering just how long it's going to be before his hand is running lavishly through it again.

She arches an eyebrow, that suggestive look about her and those hazel eyes challenging him for a reason that she's probably deciding right then and there.

"What'cha doing all the way over there?" He finds himself offering.

It is utterly agonising, holding back. To not rush to her. But he gets it now. Every move they make is a statement to the other. Nothing can be rushed with them now.

Their world is a little game that he has already won. All he has to do is remember the fact.

They have all the time in the world.

She scoffs, chuckling to herself then. "I could say the same to you." She counters, giving him look that would challenge his own arrogance.

He realises then.

She's waiting for him to make the move.

He drives her crazy. But at least he's getting used to being the one to initiate things with her now.

After the second time, the now pinnacle moment for them that finally changed them for good, he understands that he can have it all. He just has to tell her. To show her. To ask. It's not going to kill him to let her in because she's the only one who has ever been able to hold his heart without breaking it anyway, so why not keep her hands warm and his head clear from all of his past demons.

He sighs, giving her a deliberately tired look as he stretches across the white linen sheets, his fingers sliding up and over her hip bone as he uses her to pull himself to her side of the bed.

Their noses bump together in a way that causes him to grin lazily at her, the flood of arousal at her contrasting temperature and soft skin; at feeling the near invisible hairs on her body slide against his in a way that strikes at the very core of his attraction to her. He notices her freckles peek through the make-up she put on yesterday, slightly smudged by their strange evening. And she smells like fresh water, mixed in with the blissful night before. His hand slides against her waist, pulling them flush together. She follows his lead, gracefully moving a leg over his body; his hand contacting her outer thigh as he pulls her slowly to rest on top of him.

She giggles a little, like a teenager in the throes of a new and wild romance, as her hair drips around his head in fluffy waves. She bends to capture his lips against her own; sucking his tongue into her mouth enough to elicit a deep groan that vibrates right through his bones and back into her like the complete joining of a circuit. His hips instinctively raise to keep them close and his need becomes rather prominent against her.

"We have a very busy day ahead," She reminds him, sitting up then as he bucks slightly against her.

"We do," He drawls with a lazy smile, as he leans towards her again, sitting up as much as he can, his back rising off the pillow as she raises onto her knees to allow him the adjustment. He's a fan of being on the bed, but the inherent need to touch every bit of her is overwhelming still, his hands pressing along her ribcage and encouraging her hips forward. "First stop…Breakfast." He adds, feeling that sharp hit of electricity as he pushes inside of her. He watches her pout, and suppress a lengthy moan.

"Of course," She pouts. "Then what?" She commands, rocking ever so slowly slowly against him.

"Then...Harry Winston." He groans.

"Oh god yes," She says, her breath, an exaltation mixed with raw intent and the distinct acknowledgement of his hands brushing deliberately past her pubic bone. "Then what?" She shoots back, her eyes finding his for a fraction of a second.

"Then...you need a...dress." He sighs, leaning forward to suck against her collarbone, the mere threat of marking her dancing between his lips and teeth and tongue.

"Good idea. What kind?" She asks, her fingernails pressing into his shoulders.

He almost blinks at her asking. She's always known everything. And now she's asking him and it makes him feel like a king.

"Something...Dior-esque." He says, letting the words dance on her tongue.

"Hmm...go on." She hums, kissing him.

"And backless." He mumbles against her shoulder then, getting into the swing of this decision making.

"Oh. You are good at this," She smirks against his lips.

He pauses for a second, amused by her choice of words. He arches an eyebrow, waiting for her eyes to fully focus on his face. "I'm amazing at this," He points out, pressing her against him only to thrust finally into her, just to make a point. Her breasts lift with a reactive breath against his action, her eyebrows denting at the ripe need that it encourages.

"Point made," She breathes, lost in the effort. "Pun intended," She adds then, moving forward to hungrily capture his lips in hers once again.


It's safe to say, that it takes a while for them to make it out of his apartment.

They settle at Sarabeth's - not too far a walk from his Condo - some Upper East Side breakfast joint at it's best; with things like Crab's Eggs Benedict and Rib Hash with Sunny Side eggs.

It's only after they sit down, on either side of a little round, white linen covered table in a busy restaurant, that he realises.

Maybe they are both insane.

"We're not going to get everything done today." He tells her.

"Well, of course we're not if you try to hold me hostage in bed all day," She counters, smiling behind the large white coffee cup in her hands.

He smirks at the remembrance.

That had been his plan all morning.

"Wait," She frowns in thought, placing her Mochaccino back on its saucer. "Are you having second thoughts?"

"Of course not," He answers immediately. "I'm just…wondering if perhaps we set the bar a little high." He admits.

He notices her face fall for a moment, the ideas starting to form in her head.

"What exactly are you saying, Harvey?" She asks, sighing.

It dawns on him that she's still not trusting that he meant what he'd said last night.

"I...I'm just...worried that we're not going to fit it all in in time. That's all." He shrugs.

She gives him a look that he can't decipher, and notices how it warms into a knowing smile. "Look. We have three things on that list. All of which are crucial: Rings. My Dress. And the Courthouse."

"Right." He nods.

"I'm fantastically easy to buy for. And we're both practical. It'll be effortless, Harvey." She reasons, shrugging.

He's stuck then, between his unwavering trust in this woman, and that little trickle of doubt that fleets across her face.

She's a little rattled.

And it's not her best look, he notes.


It turns out ... she is right.

She is easy to buy for.

Except...for today.

He lingers outside the dressing room.

"Hey, you need some help in there?" He calls to her, his hand brushing against his chin as a vibrant image of her in some sort of disarray strikes up in his mind. "You know, I'm great with zips." He offers with a smirk, looking towards the curtain.

Before the joke has even had time to settle, the curtain pulls back abruptly to reveal her seemingly unchanged, and the pile of dresses that she went in with are folded neatly over her left arm.

"Let me guess? No takers?" He offers, holding off his disappointment on the matter.

She gives him a look.

Trust her to hold all the cards.

"They're all perfect, actually." She sighs, stalking past him.

But there is something about her demeanour that suggests she's not found 'The One'.

"I have a better idea." She says then, confusing him.

"What?" He frowns.

"Don't you worry about that." She remarks, sliding her hand through and under his arm. "Where to next..." She asks herself, before the idea forms. "Rings?" She offers.

"Rings it is." He says, leading her out.


He loves watching her face, he notes to himself.

And the moment she so much as steps over the threshold of Harry Winston, she's already excited.

He has a feeling that this will be a winner.


He's wrong.

"I'm sorry Ms Paulsen...but Cherie is not in today."

The words ring in their ears like an ugly discord.

As Harvey looks to his fiancé, somehow Donna is oddly unperturbed. "I don't care if she's in or not…" Donna chimes. "I need a ring, and I need it now. And she owes me an unconditional favour. So," She says, planting the words with icy intent. "Pick up that phone and...call her." She demands.

"I don't have her number…" The attendant frowns, slowly folding her arms.

"Fine." She says, plucking her cellphone from her purse. "I have her number. Use my phone...here." She offers bluntly, shoving the phone towards the attendant.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to...speak to my Manager first." The woman backs off, eyeing Donna with an obscurity before wandering off in the direction of the seemingly secret, fabric covered door.

Today is not going as planned. At all.

She steals a breath, looking to Harvey as her face reads a flash of withdrawn anxiety.

"You okay there?" He asks, his tone softening.

She huffs, looking away from him and back to the door. "I'm fine." She says, the pressure held in her voice. "I might slap that woman in a second for being spineless, but otherwise...I'm fine." She divulges.

He can't help but laugh.

Any other man would be absolutely terrified and running for the hills. But he's seen it all before. She places the same kind of force in attaining things for herself as she does for him and absolutely anything that he has ever needed or asked for.

He's always been in awe of it, and always appreciates her technique.

The soft stick, hard stick, soft stick approach...

He slides his right hand around her left one as it lingers next to his side and watches as the tension begins to drain out of her like an egg timer as their fingers intertwine.

"It'll work out." He encourages softly, nodding as her hazel eyes soften in reply.

"It better." She remarks dryly, her rather haughty posture relaxing somewhat despite the acrid colours still in her voice

When the woman returns, looking subservient and hanging on heels of a spindly looking older man, Harvey wagers that Donna has quite a battle ahead of her.

And that it has all the makings of excellent viewing pleasure.

"Ms Paulsen...I'm Carlton Lang, the Manager of Harvey Winston." The man says, clearing his throat of the cobwebs from supposed under-use.

"Yes? And?" She observes.

Harvey struggles not to hold in a laugh at that.

"I understand you have arrived today without an appointment?" He ascertains with a calm sharpness that no one in the room is missing.

"Look," Donna says, her hand sliding out of Harvey's so that she can slide it forward and onto the glass counter. "I have a very busy day ahead, and I know what I want. I know what you have, and I've been saving for a Harry Winston ring since my twelfth birthday. One of your top assistants, Cherie, owes me an enormous, Harry Winston framed favour and I am...here to collect." She says, looking about the place. "Or...I can persuade John Flaherty...you know...the famous commentator and former sportsman, that perhaps he wants to get a Cartier ring for his fiancée June, instead of your Winston Blossom Diamond with Pearl inlay."

He watches her eyebrow twitch in a full stop just to make her point.

His focus flies back to the older, skinny and slightly uptight man in front of them...his face slowly blanching with understanding.

"When do you need the ring for?" The man asks, somewhat tensely.

"Today." Donna answers with a pronounced sigh.

"Engagement or...Bridal?" He asks, his face cracking with interest.

"Both." Her eyes flash back at the man.

"Ms Paulsen," He says, skipping a laugh into the execution of her name. "I'm terribly sorry, but regardless of favours and...your...sturdy approach...even if we sized you up right now, unless you wanted to take something off of the rack today," He says, making a face. "Then, you already know that it will take several days to finish a ring for you, let alone Mr Specter as well. And I'm sure neither of you, given your regard for substance and style would want to leave the doors of Harry Winston with anything other than perfection."

That's the stab.

Right there.

The truth.

Harvey holds the need to wince as he watches the pressure drain out of her face.

It's a hit.

The guy is...right. And he can see it in every inch of her.

Donna knows the guy has won.

He actually feels the fight fall out of her in a huff.

And he doesn't like it one bit.

She straightens then, lifting her purse off of the glass cabinet. "This isn't over." She points out. "And that favour...is still on the table." She reminds them both sternly, watching as their smug expressions turn to overly alert nods, as she flicks her hair over one shoulder, gliding out of the shop in several leggy steps.


When he catches her outside it's a different matter.

She's flat.

She's tired.

This is not going to plan…

"Donna. Look...maybe it's a little fast. If you want all of these things, then...we can take the time, you know that, right?" He offers, his hand sliding against her arm.

"I should have known that this couldn't be accomplished in a day." She reasons, swaying on the side walk as she observes the bustling city moving around them both.

"Donna," He calls to her, striding towards her as his hands root her to the spot. "Look...do. you. want a big wedding?" He asks her firmly.

She sighs, looking away from him. "I honestly...don't know." She shrugs.

"Well, We have two choices, here." He reasons. "One...we take the time, plan it all, and have everything you want how you wanted it. Or...we get married in whatever works, today, and have a great party or a vacation, or both...after." He offers. "Now, I don't care which you decide, as long as marrying me...is the final outcome." He finishes with the slight squeeze of her arms.

"Okay," She sighs heavily, her lip twisting and all at once at odds with the two options in front of her.

He waits patiently, his hands sliding up and down her arms as she takes a moment.

He watches her eyes close, drawing all the attention in this pinnacle moment.

For a second he wonders if she's actually going to come to any decision, until she opens her eyes, adjusting to his proximity as he towers slightly above her. She smiles for a second, her hands sliding against either side of his jaw. He smirks at the coolness of her hands, the darkness in his eyes softening at having her so close.

"So?" He encourages.

"I think I want to be married to you by the end of today." She smiles slowly. "Regardless...of rings and dresses and other things." She says, whipping in a breath to solidify her decision.

"Good." He smiles. "Come on," He encourages, taking her hand. In seconds she's planted to the spot and he's pulling at a deadweight. When he turns back to her there is a look of confusion on her face. "What?"

She reserves a smile, drawing him nearer to her. His head tilts as an incredulous look flits about his features. Before the doubt as to the reason for her pause can barely settle, she leans forward to brush her lips against his.

He still hasn't quite gotten used to that feeling, yet. That little tingle that explodes between them; her lips, powdery soft, that start a little dryer until her tongue slides against his, all at once sugaring his taste buds and stirring up a three-point plan. He pulls back, grabbing her hand and pulling her along with him.

"Where are we going?" She calls to him, a slight skip in her ankles as she follows close behind. "Harvey?" She calls his name, her head jutting out as she follows his body through the uneven New York footfall.

He looks back to her with a knowing smile. "You'll see." he says, before tugging at her hand.


He makes her walk for ten minutes straight, right through Fifth Avenue and all the way to the other end of the shopping district. Which for them - on a normal workday and amongst heavy streets of New York tourists - is virtually unheard of. Of course, Donna is used to walking the city. They both are. But she certainly not used to i in heels, and certainly he's not used to pulling a near six foot woman along in them either.

She notices the sign a mile off. They've ended up at 49 West 45th Street.

The observes the 'Leigh Jay Nacht Inc.' with a Diamond as it's Logo.

She blinks, looking to him for a moment as he stares back, on the apex of her opinion.

"I mentioned this place once." She says under her breath. "How did you…" Her voice trails off in disbelief.

"I'm Harvey Specter. I know." He tells her.

She chuckles then at him mimicking her, but her recovery is quick to cover the true sense of awe.

"So, you do listen?" She enquires cockily.

He gives her a look then. "Donna, I learnt a long time ago, that everything you say means something. Maybe not at the time but...at some point." He says, leading her in. "With you it's smart to remember." He assures her.

She's shocked then. Honestly, shocked, as if she'd hedged her bets that he'd just scored lucky this one time.

In truth, she found this place years ago, a boutique specialising in vintage rings. And they are not cheap.

If anything, this place makes Harry Winston look like a discount store.

And even more odd, this place has a rather expansive range of prices to choose from. They don't discriminate, and she liked the idea of that. That you could find a ring for $1500 or $50,000, depending on what you wanted. And every single one was different. They specialised in Art Deco from the 1910s to the 1940s.

Chic.

Elegant.

One of a kind.

This place was her secret Mecca for Engagements.

And he...Harvey Specter had somehow remembered the one time she had mentioned it.

The place is fairly busy, as he follows her into the shop. His hand slides naturally against her back as they notice an attendant become available. She sidles up to the counter, a frisson of nervousness in her chest as she smiles at the woman standing behind it.

"Good Morning and welcome to Leigh Jay Nacht. I'm Marsha; what can I do for you?" The youngish woman greets warmly.

"Hi there Marsha. I'm Donna and this is Harvey. We're looking for...in a word...a god given miracle."

The woman laughs in a peel of warm colours, as Donna continues.

"We are getting...married...today. And as strange and foolish as that sounds,"

"You've been engaged forever?" The woman offers.

Donna smirks, looking to Harvey. "In a manner of speaking." She answers, taken aback by the young woman's denomination.

"If it's any consolation you look like you've been together for a very long time indeed." She notes with a secret smile.

Donna looks to Harvey, and he to her.

The woman is spot on. In a twisted kind of way they've been engaged for well over a decade.

"So...because of the rather inappropriate deadline on a rather overdue situation, I need an engagement ring and a wedding ring, today, in my size." She says. "Now, at the very least, I'll take the most beautiful ring you have in my size or near enough, to trump both."

"Okay…" The young woman nods. "And can I assume that you need a Groom wedding band also?" Marsha asks, her pale green glass-covered eyes flicking to Harvey.

"Yeah," Harvey chimes in. "Let her pick it." He says, his head indicating his fiancée. "She knows what she's doing." He smirks confidently.

"I don't doubt it," The younger woman smiles encouragingly.

He figures at this point, with Donna having picked out his office decor, his apartment and his home decor to match that, that she knows exactly what she's doing. His needs are an effortless concept for her. And there was something to be said for having a woman who arranged your world with a compliment, rather than a restriction. He's not dumb to the fact that he often falls on his ass when she's not around. On his own he's competent, sure, and a great Lawyer to boot. But she makes his world go round in a way that he only of learnt the hard way. When she up and left him, taking all of those talents with her.

If he's sure of one thing in his later years. It's that Donna Paulsen is meant to be a kept woman. Kept in any way she decides, but held onto. Firmly.

"Okay. So what kind of style are you thinking of?" The woman asks.

"I'm a 6." Donna chimes in. "How about you choose what you think looks great in what you have size-wise and we'll go from there?" She offers shrewdly.

"Good choice." The woman smiles, sliding away from them to the other side of the counter.

She sighs then, looking back to Harvey, who squeezes her waist. "Hey...you okay?" He asks her.

She nods. "After this, you're buying me a cocktail." She tells him, her eyes wide with importance as she nods in double confirmation. "A big one." She swallows.

"If we pull this off today, I'll buy you a bar." He counters.

"Aww," She pouts, making fun of him as her hand grabs the front of his face with a playfulness. "You're so cute when you throw your money around unnecessarily." She croons deliberately.

"If you want, we can pretend that I'm joking." He offers cooly, his head tilting and swatting her maroon tinged talons away with a lighting quick reflex, before he presses his hand into her waist, rubbing against the bottom of her ribcage.

She laughs to herself, observing the fine dark hairs beginning to show on his chin-line.

"You know it's always been your money too, right?" He offers, his eyes pearly all of a sudden.

She swallows, overtaken for a moment by his slight smoulder. "Had I realised sooner, I'd have bought myself a time-share in the Hamptons long ago." She remarks, her mouth popping.

"Don't say things you don't mean." He fakes with a disturbed frown.

"Fine." She replies staunchly. "Cabo?" She throws in as a better offer.

He smiles broadly. Her ridiculousness is infectious. "Better," He compliments, smoothing her back.

"Okay," The younger woman calls, drawing their attention back to the task at hand. "Now...I have some good news...and some bad news."

"Okay." Donna nods. "Open with bad news."

"There's only one ring in your size, I'm afraid. We've been cleaned out of viable options." The woman replies, her eyes wide.

"Right. And?" Donna encourages.

"And...more bad news...it's forty thousand dollars." The woman says with a wince.

Donna sighs. "Okay…" She says, straightening to digest the information.

"Money's not a problem," Harvey interjects swiftly, swallowing Donna's reply as soon as it reaches the air.

Her head whips around then, blinking over wider eyes than he's ever seem from her. "Harvey," She admonishes.

"Shall we just have a look at the ring first?" He offers calmly, ignoring her reservations.

For a moment they stare each other down, the challenge in his onyx eyes winning marginally over the now muted caution in her hazel ones.

She takes a puff of a breath in; all at once taken aback by the predicament. "Show me the ring." She demands.

The woman nods, a secret smile on her lips as she lifts the display tray; one solitary solitaire placed in the middle of it.

"The good news is, it's one of our best pieces. And I don't often option this, but...I think it would look great on you." The womans voice drifts into the background.

Donna blinks.

Twice.

It's a work of art.

"This is a Platinum, Edwardian Engagement Ring with a European cut and filigree design. Now...it is an engagement Ring, but...I have a feeling that it would be perfect for today. Now...we could find you something to go with it, but" the saleswoman pauses, sliding the ring onto Donna's finger.

"I'll take it." Donna finds herself saying. Her eyes look to Harvey, and then to the ring. She hasn't taken a breath in seconds.

It's beautiful. An almost patchwork design of a cross stitch style flower in slate grey square cut diamonds, matching out in grayscale tones to clearer more traditional diamonds, all set on one very intricately woven platinum ring.

It speaks of the Titanic, of the drama and the turn of the Twentieth Century.

And yet, there is something so...Harvey, about it. Painfully Classic. Effortless. Filled with Greys.

And yet the filigree is so her. Dainty. Imposing. Seemingly Regal.

She blinks, skipping looks between the ring, the woman watching her and to Harvey smirking rather meaningfully back at her.

She doesn't even need to discuss it with him.

She looks back to the server, a direct confidence about her then. "You get commission, right?" She enquires.

The woman smiles shrewdly.


It takes them another hour to pick out Harvey's ring; a charcoal tungsten inlaid platinum ring. Simple, and modern with a matching palette to her bold yet delicate design. It was a little bigger than he needed, by one and a half sizes. But he promised to hand it back to Donna right after the ceremony with her promise to hand it back into the jewellers in time to be resized the very next day.

They also decided that in one year's time...if it all worked out - an agreement based on realistic terms for two people working in the law - then, he would buy her a more traditional wedding band to commemorate the occasion. In her head, it made the kind of sense that an Engagement to Wedding band never did. What was the point in having a ring that then got stored before you were even married? It made a hell of a lot more sense to wear the engagement ring into your marriage. It had more meaning, rather than the idea of putting down an initial deposit on a woman with a diamond.

She'd had many of those in the past. Many frivolous and some meaningful.

But this ring...this one in particular had more than enough meaning to trump all of others.

It was a ring fit for a moment, and the many possible moments after that.


Face to face
One to one
Two hearts race
All is lost and won

Air to air
Light to light
All laid bare
Senses taking flight

It all begins
When stars align
And two paths meet
To re-define
We fall in love

'WE FALL IN LOVE' BY Lamb


Donna wasn't kidding about the bar.

And Harvey had another great idea. It seemed that he was full of them today.

When they ended up outside a small Restaurant in the garment district she was immediately confused.

"Is this…?" She blinks, a memory forming from fragments in her mind.

"Yeah. This used to be the bar. You remember?" He asks her.

"First time we met?" She offers, looking to the sign now reading 'El Toro'. "Of course." She confirms.

"Shall we go see if the layout is still the same?" He asks.

"Do we really want to eat Mexican before we get married?" She frowns, the idea of being sat on a toilet not being the best wedding day activity that springs to mind.

"Oh I don't know," He counters as his hand snakes around her waist. "Some Nachos...a couple of Margaritas." He encourages with a smirk. "You love Margaritas."

"I do love Margaritas…" She smirks, allowing him to take her hand. "Then, lead the way, Sir." She smiles.


Their booth is still there, oddly.

She sits in her original space, smirking as the memory of their first meeting catches up with her.

He suddenly has this flash of ginger bangs and this whimsy of what used to be her optimistic seeming voice.

"This used to be our old haunt," He introduces.

"Yeah. End of each case. All the Assistant DAs…wow...we were...much younger back then." She concludes.

"You haven't changed a bit. Minus the bangs." He notes, with a twitch of interest.

"You've changed a...hell of a lot." She smirks.

"That's hurtful." He tells her, feigning a wounded expression.

She chuckles to herself, playing about with her fork. "If I remember...you propositioned me from the very moment I sat down in this very seat."

"You were beautiful. I was forward."

"I guess you were." She replies, observing him as a buzz of electricity hums between them.

"I could still be...forward, you know." He encourages, sliding around the bench to sit a little closer to her.

"Uh huh. Nice try," She says, noticing a young waiter approach from the end of the bar. "But you're getting married, now."

"Does that mean I can't hit on you now?" He frowns oddly.

"I don't know." She says, letting the question revolve in her mind. After a moment she smiles, catlike. "Let's find out."

He smiles back, readying himself. "Hey Gorgeous, how's it going? You look like the kind of woman I would go down on." He says with a twitch of his eyebrow.

She laughs then, a pealing laughter that ripples out into the moderately quiet restaurant, as it alerts the many bored waiters and waitresses.

"What?" He jokes. "Too strong?" He frowns, entertained by her way as she stifles her outburst.

"Please don't tell me that's a line. I've watched you pick up…" She huffs, "Over a hundred women before. You've never once used that."

"Am I losing my touch?" He asks, indulging her.

"Let's just say It's a good thing that you're getting married, now." She offers, patting his hand.

"Why?" He asks, his eyebrows denting.

"Because you are...way off your game, Specter." She leans forward, letting the words settle as his face bends at the well laid challenge.

"Yesterday...I got you to agree to marry me. We weren't dating, and we'd barely slept together...if that's not game, then I don't know what the hell is." He states with gussy about him.

"Maybe it's been my plan all along." She offers, causing his face to peak with a held interest.

"Hi, I'm Kurt. Can I order you some drinks?" A voice interrupts them.

"I'd like a round of 'Burn...' for my friend here." She smirks looking up at the dark haired waiter.

"You're a beautiful idiot," Harvey infers, looking to his counterpart, before regarding the Waiter. "And we would like a Margarita, on the rocks, and a double Macallan, neat. Thank You." He offers, watching as the Waiter nods, before sliding away with a dubious look on his face. He leans in, looking to her. "So...where were we?" He offers with a grin.

"You were...losing your game and this one?" She offers, smirking across the table.

"Okay." He nods. "I know what you're doing." He divulges, sitting a little straighter as his hands slide into his lap.

"Winning?" She offers, with a vibrant look of victory on her face.

He shakes his head, indulging her again as he readies his retort, leaning in so that he's arched over the corner of the table as his hand disappears underneath it. "You know...I could just...slide my hand...like this," He offers, watching the confidence drain from her face. "And then work my way up your left leg...and It. Would. Ruin you." He tells her.

He knows he has her when her cheeks blanch.

"Get your hand away from my crotch before I mount it." She says firmly, swallowing.

"You're so...coarse." He chokes with humour, withholding his smirk in favour of giving her a scolding look.

"What can I say. This has been a...very weird day." She admits.

She's not wrong. If he'd have known that the day would unfold like this, he'd have envisioned staying in bed, and lavishing his impulses on her until the evening drew back in again.

But they had laid so much on the table now that it was beginning to bring out these strangely electric and uncharted moments between them. Like two kids in their twenties suddenly wrapped in a juvenile and highly charged relationship.

And he was glad that it wasn't just him. He had wanted to press her up against a flat surface for over half a day now. If they hadn't been in the car with Ray on the way here, he would have been working on her second orgasm before they had even made it to the first destination.

"One Margarita on the rocks," The Waiter introduces, looking to Harvey as he points to Donna. "And one double Macallan neat." He supposes, placing the familiar drink in front of Harvey. "Would you both like to order now?"

"Nachos. Two. Thanks." Harvey answers, a sideways look to Donna, whose eyebrows bob in regard of his accurate choice.

"Coming right up." The Waiter says, sliding away from the table.

"Is this married life? You...ordering for me?" She enquires, her left eyebrow spiking upward with interest.

"Don't pretend it's not what you want." He throws at her with a heavy look. "If you're going to comment on every time I take an educated guess, then it's going to be a very looonnng marriage."

"You hope," She tells him, something overly challenging in her eyes.

"I don't need hope," He says, picking up his Macallan to slide it along his lips. "I got you." He remarks, the slide of saccharin in his tone before he takes another sip. He waits till her eyes roll before his voice becomes more laced honesty. "And I know that when you want something, you don't change your mind."

"Are we talking Nachos or something else?" She offers with a knowing smile.

He rolls his eyes. Now she is being the incorrigible one.

"I've got to admit," She says then, as he notes a seriousness and something overly quiet about her tone. She lifts her head, coming to terms with the words forming in her head. "You do actually know me. Really know me. Whether you've realised gradually, or….you always have, deep down, you just...do. And...that is...difficult...for me. To get used to."

"You mean...difficult that you're not five steps ahead every time?"

"Of you?" She offers, a strangely honest look on her usually confident face. "Yes. It's an adjustment." She admits. "And not because you...take charge. But because you...know. You know me and you're not afraid to act on what you know. Nobody's ever been…."

"Bold enough?"

"I guess." She smiles. "At least enough to occasionally take control of the situation."

"What can I say. I feel like you needed it today." He shrugs.

She swallows. "Have I been that obvious?" She remarks, a hint of anxiety covered humour in there. "And all these years I thought I was taking care of you." She says, swallowing the words in perfectly cooled tequila.

"Donna." He says with weight to the word. "That is what I've always valued about you. And what I took for granted for a long time. You make my world...better...without me having to say or do anything. And I think...we're equal now, with regards to that." He says, shrugging with an awkwardness.

Even in moments like this he's still growing. She forgets that sometimes. He's learning, still. Finding out things.

"Yeah." She smirks. "I guess, it's a good that thing you asked me to...marry you." She says, laying the bait with another signature smile.

"Well...Jessica Chastain was otherwise engaged, so," He throws at her flippantly.

"Whoa. What a second. Let's not pretend you a have a thing for redheads now." She accuses. "I am a strict anomaly." She states, her eyes wide as she sips her Margarita.

"Maybe, I...didn't want to hurt your feelings….by having another redhead around?" He plays.

"In the thirteen years that I have known you...you've never...ever...dated or slept with or so much as glanced at another redhead."

She measures his gaze for a moment, the ambiguity there causing an interest to spread throughout her face. Her eyebrows raise, an entertained look growing then.

"Just...once." He relinquishes. "One night. And I never told you about it because it felt...dirty."

She smiles….alight with the electricity of information. "Bullshit."

"She was five ten, hair like Susan Sarandon in Thelma and Louise and she actually purred."

He knew he'd won when her voice pinched. "How dirty?" She enquires, straightening.

"Dirty enough for me to keep it from you." He says.

She straightens at the waist in one fluid movement, only to bend a little further over the table. "I want her name, her profession and where she lived, Right the hell now." She demands with vigour.

He smirks then. He has her. He totally has her. "Don't get upset." He sings.

She huffs, the challenge in her eyes. "Kittridge, you've never seen me very upset," She tells him, folding her arms and concentrating a gaze on the wait staff.

"Zero Body count." He warns, the strain of a smirk underneath his poker face.

Her eyes shoot to his in a rather comical fashion. "We'll see." She counters, before finishing her Margarita.

"Well played." He compliments with a smile.

He loves this woman.

Even without the Mission Impossible quotes.

Jessica Chastain has nothing on Donna Paulsen.


Donna was glad that the Margarita's had finally taken the edge off, as she taps her foot into Harvey's lush cream carpet.

They had a time scheduled at New York City Hall. In approximately one hour.

And right now, he was putting on a suit. What would now...be a very important one. Ordinarily she would help, and did at first, until their chemistry firmly broke all concentration and she was kindly escorted out of the walk-in and planted onto the lounge couch with a large whiskey to add to her almost empty alcohol drenched stomach.

This was the...strangest of days.

Days like this, finally sleeping with a guy you liked, or had feelings for. They usually started with breakfast and the promise of Dinner that night. Or seeing each other again in a few days and the tentative little moments in between that.

Days like this, of being engaged to a guy, usually superseded a lengthy relationship, possibly after a trial 'moving in' period, but definitely after attending at least a few public functions as an established couple.

Days like this, getting engaged to your significant other, usually followed into a full day of sex. She assumed.

But their relationship was like no other, and if she had thought about it clearly enough, then why should she assume that their engagement and wedding day would be anything other than extra-ordinary.

"Hey," She hears him say as he saunters out in a crisp grey suit with white and silver shirt and tie detail. "I thought…" He pauses, looking himself over. "I know it's not a tuxedo, but...it feels right to get married in my best three piece." He offers, observing her then.

She slides the glass onto the coffee table, standing to observe the charcoal lines and pale shirt.

Then the tie. Perfect knotted.

Silver is Harvey's happy colour. That and cobalt blue.

A white shirt denotes nothing going on in the periphery of his subconscious.

It soothes her to see him so calm and concentrated.

His back straightens, the inevitable weight of her decision resting on his own. She closes the distance between them then, her hands sliding into the lapels of his jacket as his eyes darken to focus on hers.

"It think we're...ready to get married." She smiles, her hand sliding over his shoulder.

"But what about your dress?" He asks her. "Not that I don't appreciate you in flannel and jeans, but," He hums against her.

"Oh, you'll see." She tells him, a smirk of hidden information.


The traffic is its usual city wide afternoon gridlock. Luckily they are not too far from their destination and left in plenty of time to get there on time.

When the car door opens for her, the sound of the city floods into the car; her hand is taken t once by a familiar one to lead her up the stairs. She pauses, much to Harvey's confusion, as she gazes along the length of the staircase.

City Hall.

This was it. Their final destination.

"You okay?" He asks her, squeezing her hand.

Panic stations.

"Mhm-hm." She nods curtly before allowing him to lead her up to the entrance.


It turns out, that marrying a man who has strong connections at City Hall and every other Law-abiding department in the city, means that you don't have to wait in the queue like everybody else. She didn't have to intervene once.

The day is starting to ease out, she thinks, and the perks of being associated with the Great Harvey Specter are finally starting to show themselves.

Any other Tom Dick or Harry would also have had to apply for a marriage license and then wait that cursory 24 hours before being able to finalise it with their vows.

But, such were the provisions of Lawyers with a certain weight to their persuasion.

It was only then, that it became swiftly apparent to Donna, that Harvey Specter, her Husband-to-be, was all over this operation.

And being the last appointment of the day made it actually seem...rather effortless, if anything.

She left Harvey when they had finally located the correct chapel, and agreed to meet back there in half an hour.

"You better come back." He tells her, his hands sliding through her wavy hair.

"What? You think I'm going to up and leave you?" She offers with a scoff.

"There's a first time for everything." He offers, his cheekbones sharpening to the fact.

"Don't you mean a second time?" She plays, smirking evilly against his hand as it cups her cheekbone protectively.

"You're not filling me with confidence, Donna." He sings, despite the hardening pressure in his face.

"Harvey," She says then, her hands clamping down on his shoulders as her face draws nearer to his. "I haven't been able to leave you for nearly thirteen years. And I'm almost Ninety-two percent sure that that's not ever going to change." She says, kissing him on the cheek before drawing out of his arms.

"You have thirty minutes." He calls after her.

"I only need twenty five." She plays, winking to him as she wanders in the direction of the bathroom.


Plenty of time to get ready, she thinks to herself, as she makes her way to the long bench of sinks and mirrors.

Plenty of time, If she had the dress, that is.

She texts the magic number again, with the words: Battle Stations and nothing else.

In not more that ten minutes, perfectly timed against finishing her hair, the package is delivered to her by an unnamed attendant, who swiftly exits thereafter.

This is the easy part, she thinks to herself, as she looks in the mirror.

The Hard part...is only just beginning.


20 minutes later she stands, examining a pair of rather stately doors.

There is a lot of... Maple and Oak, she thinks, as she looks about herself and the near barren hallway. It's a weird thing to think of at a time like this, when she should be making her way through the doors.

She draws a long breath.

In all honesty, she wasn't sure what her actual wedding would have entailed, had there been a more traditional one.

Sure, the dress and the look. Obviously.

But the venue? The music? The Guest list?

They weren't traditional people. The Plaza would seem wholly unnatural for them.

And...The Groom?

For all that she loved Harvey, and she did, never once had she thought about them being married.

With a child. Sure. Why not. He had sperm, after all.

Living together...kind of. Okay. She could understand that, perhaps.

But actually getting married? To each other?

It had honestly never once crossed her mind.

Being with him had always meant...just being with him.

It was oddly school girl of her. But then, they were like that in some ways. Besides, until yesterday she assumed that Harvey would have dismissed marriage after the outcome of his mother and father's.

Turns out, he wants to correct what they had gotten wrong and apply it to his own life.

She takes a breath, and plants one more brave step towards the inevitability.

Today, she is marrying the man she loves.

Because he wants to.

However terrifying an idea it may be.


She emerges through the doors, spotting him leant against a row of oak seats.

He stands immediately, taking her in in one slow steal of a breath.

If she didn't know him any better she'd think he'd turned to stone. He always did have that look about him.

She smiles to herself. She knows exactly what she looks like.

Hair pinned to the side. Simple. Elegant. Seemingly effortless.

Her dress - hand-delivered by that special number less than twenty minutes before. Chiffon, peach and strapless. A little known dress designer with a flare for silvery grey thread detail and an understated-ness.

To anyone on the street they would think that they were going to a gala, or perhaps a night at the Opera.

She feels like a secret agent, as she swans down the aisle, watching his face twitch with a cat-like interest as his hands slide out of his pockets. She meets him halfway, smiling at his charcoal suit; her eyes zoning in on the faint pale pink of his pinstripe jacket.

"Donna," He offers.

"Harvey," She replies, an expectant tone in her voice.

"Shall we?" He offers, gesturing for her to take his arm.

She smiles widely at his sense of formality, as her fingers slide across his material covered arm, their shoulders bumping together as he leads her down the aisle.

It's better this way, she realises. No need for Fathers who were never there, or special ones who had long since been lost to them.

No need for Harvey to have to endure his Mother's awkward insistence in being involved or her sister's silent queries as to why she would marry a man whom she'd only slept with on three separate occasions and yet had been emotionally tied to for over a decade.

It was just...them.

Admittedly, the idea of Mike and Rachel being there would have been...a welcome addition.

But they would be enough. Just two people.

"You look beautiful, by the way." He whispers into her hair.

"I know," She remarks, before her mouth falls into a smile. He gives her a look, a reminder to examine him where she notices his hair slightly uneven on one side. She reaches to smooth the offending strands.

This action is different now. He doesn't fuss and then flinch like he used to and she doesn't have to fight the feeling that it encourages in favour of being professional. Now he's smiling at her, entertained with his attention of her.

Suddenly his phone beeps in his pocket, causing them to pause as he fishes out his phone. She frowns, an alien annoyance building up in her that surprises her somewhat. She watches him, as he rolls his eyes, chuckling quietly to himself.

"What is it?" She asks him, eyeing the Minister waiting quietly at the other end of the small chapel.

"Our witnesses are-" He starts, before the doors crash open with a reverberating clatter.

"Here! Sorry," Says Mike's voice, rushing towards them. He is suit clad, in blue with a silver tie and Rachel's hand clamped in his as she glues herself to his side in a turquoise dress and an ear stretching grin plastered onto her pretty face.

Donna sighs, a quiet laugh falling out, before she composes herself as they reach the couple.

"You're late, Michael." She says confidently, before her sternness softens as she turns her face, waiting.

"Too late?" He questions, planting a kiss naturally above her cheekbone.

"You're right on time," Harvey interjects. "Hey Rach," he smiles.

"Hi. Harvey." She smiles reservedly back at him.

It occurs to all of them that their relationship is the one most steeped in work regulation. They've never so much as shared a drink in all the time that they've worked at the firm. Donna decides there and then to change that. Rachel is no longer the friend, holding the secrets that attach him to Donna and Mike.

They are now one unit.

Rachel grabs Donna, pulling her aside for a moment.

"You look so beautiful." Rachel compliments, giving her friend the once over.

"Good enough?" To marry my ex-Boss, she thinks to herself.

"More than good enough," Rachel confirms, before a thought strikes her. "I forgot," She says half to herself, grabbing the purse that's hanging from her shoulder. Donna watches as her friend pulls out a medium sized black box, which opens to reveal a beautiful necklace, in a similar design to her ring, with grey diamonds spreading to topaz and then to sapphire.

It looks old, and blue.

And something tells her that it's about to be borrowed, too.

"I picked it up from Christie's," Rachel adds, as she undoes the clasp for her friend. "And after Harvey sent me a picture of your ring. I figure the two could work together nicely." She reasons, as the necklace lays delicately onto her skin.

She's in shock. Multi-level shock until Harvey's hand slides back into hers with ease.

"You ready?" He nudges her, looking to the two women as Mike nears them.

She looks to Mike and Rachel, both holding hands and smiling back at them.

"I am." Donna smiles at him finally, before they walk to the overly patient Minister.

Mike grasps Harvey's shoulder for a moment.

"You had a bathroom break?" Mike quips, watching as his friend's face drops like a stone.

"Really? This is my wedding. Enough with the prostate jokes." Harvey remarks gruffly.

"Look, Donna'll be pissed if you have to break the ceremony because you're desperate." He reminds him, earning a laugh from the women, as Harvey steers her towards the direction of the Minister with a worn in glare.

"I'm just looking out for everyone involved!" Mike calls behind them.

"Mike," Rachel placates him, her hand sliding into his as they follow the couple.


"Good, almost Evening." The Minister starts. "We are gathered here today, to witness the marriage of one Harvey Reginald Specter,"

Mike's eyes bore into Harvey's at that. He's never ever going to live that middle name down and he hates his Mother even more for forcing it upon him.

"And one Donna Roberta Paulsen. Now," The Minister pauses, looking to both Rachel and Mike. "If there is anybody present, who knows of a reason why these two shall not be married, speak now…" He pauses, looking to the four as they ponder over circle. "Or forever hold your peace."

There is silence. And smiles. Some of them, secret.

Only thirteen years of emotional anguish could truly silence a room. However empty it may be.

"Do you have the rings?" The Minister asks, looking between Harvey and Mike.

Harvey nods, sliding his hand into his pocket.

Her eyes find his in a flash.

This is it. The precipice, she thinks.

But suddenly it doesn't look so bad from up here.


From then on, the late afternoon turns into the daydream of an evening.

All she can feel is his hand, with skin slightly moist against her own, guiding her as they walk out of City Hall, their friends in tow, the clouds looking powdery against a slate and tangerine sky above, suddenly so much darker than when she had graced the steps an hour or so earlier.

She senses this overwhelming wave of calm settle in her bones with a heavy tiredness. Like there had been an invisible cloud over her head that she'd never really acknowledged before. One that could have been there for years, following just her. She's not really sure any more. Mostly because it doesn't really matter. She has never let herself be objectified by the man she works for. She wouldn't let him take both sides of her back then. But now she wants to...to give over everything of herself to him because he does deserve her. And more than that really. He always has, he just...never fought this hard before.

Her eyes flicker to the man next to her, his sideburns shining with a greyish tinge of age as his jaw sets, observing the road for the familiar sight of his car. It occurs to her that during their exit, Rachel and Mike have disappeared as soon as they arrived. And usually, she'd be digging into that mystery like Harriet the Spy, but something tells her that Harvey is still in full control of this entire event. As he catches her looking at him, his face turns with a reserved smirk as his hand squeezes hers once.

"What's going on in there?" He asks her.

"Nothing." She says, a smile sharing between them.

He chuckles to himself, spotting the car before looking back at her knowingly. "Well...that's a first." He notes, earning a groan laden eye-roll to ripple out of his new Wife.

"Oh, so now you're married, you think you know everything, huh?" She plays.

"Well, I'm not like...you, but I know..." He smiles then, the jibe settling out of his face. "Enough." He replies meaningfully.

She shakes off the sentiment, instead letting her eyes settle on the sky again as dusk draws in quicker with the passing seconds.

She's not sure if it's the sunset. Or the vibrancy of such a thing against the darkening sky. Or just how the light plays with his features, giving him that worn in smoulder.

Either way, she is completely in love with this man.

This man whom she belongs to with an equally returned sentiment.

She wonders if the feeling will ever settle below a bubbling frisson.

"Hey…Mrs Specter," He hears her call.

The words knock her out of her private head-space, her eyes immediately rolling at the fact. "Oh my god…you've been dying to use that all day, haven't you?"

"I have." He nods, his head tilting towards the Lexus now parked up in front of them. "We better go." He encourages.

"What? Why?" She frowns.

It dawns on her that they never discussed their day further than the actual wedding.

"You'll understand." He promises, opening the car door for her.

She bows, sliding along the back seat. Her eyes collide with the dark meaningful ones of Ray Benghazi, their driver, as he glances in the rear view mirror.

"Mr and Mrs Specter." He greets with a wry smile.

"Don't use that too often Ray," Donna warns good-naturedly. "Or Harvey'll start to think he's the King."

"Uh-huh-huh." Harvey interjects, a likeable resemblance of The King himself.

She suppresses a smile. "Scratch that, Ray." She sighs. "The damage has already been done." She remarks with a comically disappointed tone.

"Ray." Harvey chimes in, a natural authority to him. "You know where to go." He indicates with a meaningful nod.

"Right away, Sir." Ray smiles, flicking on the indicator.


Her stomach is in knots for the entire ride. Even with his hand still firmly in hers.

"Harvey, just tell me what's going on..." Donna demands, as he escorts her through the doors of another unnamed restaurant now in the Flower District.

She stops dead when a crowd of people erupt into an applause at their poignant entrance.

Her heart leaps in her throat at the sight in front of her.

How he had managed this she didn't fully understand. She surmises that it mostly has to do with him texting and calling like a wild man whilst she had been in the bathroom at various points today. It's the only deduction that springs to mind.

She turns to her husband, witnessing his very self-satisfied smirk.

"You did this?" She asks, watching the various people laugh and smile at her.

"It's not like it was hard?" He throws at her. "I just...called Mike, mostly." He shrugs.

"Harvey," She sighs, turning to her husband. Of course Mike and Rachel would have something to do with this.

"What?" He asks.

"I love you." She smirks secretly.

"Good." He says, giving her a look. "Because it took five bathroom calls to bring it all together."

"Yours or mine?"

"Both," He smirks, leading her out into the packed restaurant. "Concentrate," He encourages, turning her back to the crowd.

Her sister is there.

Her mother. She's really not sure how Harvey got her to agree to come, but there she is.

Her old-time friend Julie is there too, with her husband Daniel.

Louis is also there, Holding back the tears for a number of reasons.

And Mike and Rachel, of course. Having found their way here ahead of them, she gathers.

Even Jessica and a Date, it seems.

Marcus, apparently, is on his way with the kids. Wife presumably and tiredly in toe.

Everybody that she needs is there. And smiling. And not judging her or Harvey for their spur of the moment gear change from first right into fifth.

Her eyes linger on his form as people jump in one after the other, greeting him like they have all been part of the huge plan.

Truth is...that they probably have been.

Albeit a very...impromptu plan.

It's only when he looks back at her, a lopsided grin of interest coming off of his face that she realises that she is staring at him.

"Hey again," It's only Rachel's voice that pulls her out of her immense daydream.

"You little sneak." She accuses.

"He's done a good job, hasn't he?" Rachel chuckles, her eyes painting a depth of meaning between them. "Mrs Specter,"

"Why is everyone so interested in calling me that?" Donna blinks at her friend.

"Because you're the…" Mike chimes in, before resisting the last word.

"I'm the 'what', Mike?" She counters, eyeing her younger friend.

"The Mom," Mike remarks with a shrug, unperturbed.

"Oh my god..." She muses. "You're right. I am. How did I..." She trails off, a resounding look of shock on her face, as Harvey slides up against his bride. She huffs, slapping him in the chest.

"Oww. What the hell was that for?" He barks, frowning sharply at her.

"Why did you not tell me I was the Mother?" She bites at him with wide eyes.

There's something comical to be seen in this scenario.

"I'm the Dad." He shrugs defensively. "I thought you knew…" He replies, giving her a look as his hand settles around her waist to give it a quick squeeze.

"I thought Jessica was the Mom." She sighs disappointedly, watching her husband and friend-children smile supportively at her. "I always thought I was the…"

"Mistress?" Harvey offers, gaining another pointed glare.

"Funny." She groans as her eyes travel to notice her Mother with an apparent staunchness to her.

So...her Mom is pissed.

She groans under her breath. "If you'll excuse me, I have a…" She gestures vaguely, before stealing a breath.

She's surprised to feel Harvey next to her. "Harvey," She frowns, pausing. "You don't have to come with me. I can handle this." She tells him.

"Donna. I caused it. Probably from the very beginning. It's the least I can do." He says.

He's so amiable in one smoulder of a man. Her eyes squint, as if she's trying to see through him. Part of her wants to do it alone, but something in his eyes gives her a strange sense of emotional trust. She looks down as their hands intertwine once again.

Her Mother would have moaned about not having the time to pick out a proper outfit. Or being included in the ceremony. Or just for not knowing about the development in their relationship as a whole.

Instead, P.W - post-wedding - she stands quietly next to her sister, Katy, her arms folded with a stubborn refusal an an emotional brick wall.

"Ms and Miss Paulsen, thank you for coming," Harvey greets, gaining their immediate attention.

"Well," Her mother snorts somewhat. "I wasn't about to miss my oldest daughter's impromptu wedding, was I?" She replies with a steely slide in her rather delicate voice.

"I was." Her sister adds, earning an arduous look from the three other people.

Donna...it should be known. Is nothing like her Mother.

She is not small, nor rounded, nor lighter haired as her Mother and Sister are. Donna is also obviously redhead, and the only one in her entire family. She is taller and more slender - perhaps like her father used to be - and with a social difference about her, unlike her relatives. A clown. A word-smith. A Drama Queen to boot.

"Mom, please don't star-" Before Donna can continue, Harvey interrupts with a soothing tone.

"That's exactly what it was, Ms Paulsen. Can I...call you Alice?" He asks the woman.

"I suppose. Giving that you've now married my daughter." She says, regarding him with guarded and yet interested eyes.

"Alice, yesterday evening, I asked your daughter to marry me." He begins.

"But you weren't even dating?" Her mother squints.

"You're right. We weren't. We came to an agreement, a while back, that we would put our relationship on hold. But…" He pauses, looking to Donna. "I couldn't wait any longer." He says, his eyes lingering on the redhead in question. "And yesterday, I asked her to marry me. And she decided that we should just...bite the marital bullet."

It's occurs to Donna, in watching her new husband, that this is probably what he's like in court. Well placed. Well mannered. Charming. Decisive.

Different to the office.

She seldom gets to see this side of him unless he's nailing a deal. Or when she herself was on trial, and that didn't exactly bring out the best in him.

She knows now, that not seeing it until now, doesn't make him any less of a man, but definitely more of a mystery.

"But what about your wedding, Donna?" Alice counters, looking to her daughter. "The Plaza? All of those folders that you used to keep as a little girl?" Alice asks her daughter, a pained expression on her face. "You've always said you wanted that?"

"Mom," She says, the tone in her voice laying a weight that quiets the circle. "Given our rocky history, I decided that to avoid talking myself out of it, I should just leap. Get married. And I'm sorry that you weren't there. Either of you," She adds, looking to her sister's reluctant face. "But you only know Harvey, the guy I worked for. You don't know the Harvey that I...fell in love with. The man who always abided by my rules. My requests. My suggestions. And let's face it...you didn't have a very high opinion of him before, so why would I need our relationship to be subjected to all of that when we were already making such a life altering decision?" She pauses for a moment. "So. now...you can get to know the Harvey that I know." She offers, her hand sliding into his. "So...Mom...Katy. This is Harvey Specter. My husband. And pain in the ass." She adds with a smirk.

"That last bit." He says, regarding her directly. "Totally ruined it." He remarks, earning a cursory glare from his wife that merges into a gleam of challenge in her eyes.

He smirks to himself, before turning to her Mother. "Alice...can I introduce you to our friends?" He offers, swerving the woman over to Louis Litt before she can object.

Donna smirks knowingly, watching Harvey lead her mother into the fray.

Well, played Specter… she thinks to herself, before pulling her attention back to her sister.

"Hey Kit-Kat." Donna remarks boldly, holding out her arms.

"I'm also not happy...on principle." Katy states through lemony bangs as she folds her arms staunchly. She still accepts a hug from her older sister, however awkward-seeming.

"I'm sorry that I didn't tell you. It happened yesterday, and." Donna gestures.

"You've been dick deep ever since?" Katy offers, a devilish glare.

"Do you have to be so crass…?" Donna admonishes, frowning bluntly at her sister.

"Am I wrong?" Her sister counters with a sharp look.

Donna slumps slightly then, standing alongside her sister to regard the many guests mingling about the place. "No. You're not." She sighs in honest defeat. "You know, I'm actually impressed at how he got it all together in time." She muses, looking to Louis, Harvey and her Mother. Laughing. That's something she definitely never thought she'd see.

"Well, I did promise him that I'd get Mom here if he arranged it all, so." She shrugs, some secret balancing on her similar features. "Glad to see he's not a quitter." She adds, with a dull-ness.

"He called you too, didn't he?"

"You wanna know what he told me?" Katy baits her sister, watching as Donna's interest piques accordingly. "He said...that he loved you completely and that you were taking a huge step and would need us."

"He's not wrong…" She agrees, swallowing the fact. "Wait...how did he get your number?" She asks then, before the obvious answer occurs.

"Rachel." They chime in unison. Donna smiles then. Of course...

This is starting to sound like the great heist. And she had already married James Bond.

Was it possible that she was Pussy Galore?

"For what it's worth... he's still...pretty hot...for an old guy." Katy adds, balancing the admittance with her trademarked surly demeanour.

"You're not exactly young anymore, Kat. And yes...he's is very hot." She says, her eyes drifting to the sharpest man in the room.

"I can't believe you married your Boss," Katy remarks, stealing a glance towards her sister. "Hello Cliche." She plays.

"Me either." She says with a sigh. "I think I'm still in a viable amount of shock." She admits, letting the tension finally drain out of her.

"Okay...I'm hitting the bar." Katy says resoundly. "Two tequilas," She says deliberately.

"Katy. I'm not getting drunk at my own reception." Donna warns, watching her sister drift away from her.

"We'll see," Her sister smirks over her shoulder, making her way across the restaurant.

She stands for a second, happily observing the crowd, as they bustle about, bubbling in and out of conversation.

For a bunch of half-strangers, they seem to be making up their own party without anybody's help.

Mike has accosted Katy at the bar; an effervescent conversation developing despite Katy's usual social reluctance.

Meanwhile, Rachel has now joined her Mom and an ever demanding Louis, as Jessica and her date watch with a palpable interest.

And Harvey is…

"Hey you. Observing my handiwork?"

She smiles at his distinctive voice as he slides against her, a hand reaching up to encourage the large auburn curls off of her shoulder to reveal a very long-missed dotting of tan freckles on her exposed neck. She looks to him as his left hand finally settles against the middle of her back.

"Perhaps I'm...wondering where my Margarita is?" She offers, laying the inevitable bait.

"Why do you think we're in a Spanish restaurant, dumb-ass?" He says bluntly, despite the charged look in his eyes.

"Margaritas don't come from Spain...Dumb-ass." She fires back at him with enjoyment.

"Pot-ay-to, Pot-ah-to." He remarks then, rolling his eyes at her growing defeat.

"So I suppose...after you've done all this...I can't go through with that annulment after all." She quips, savouring the moment.

Just to keep him on his toes, of course...

"Do you wanna sign a pre-nup?" He warns colourfully.

"Harvey," She chides, slapping him once more against the firm panels of his chest.

"God, you're feisty today." He smirks, looking rather pleased with himself.

"Oh Harvey," She sighs lavishly. "You have absolutely no idea what you're in for." She tells him, as she leans in to kiss him resolutely.

As a matter of fact, he knows exactly what he's in for.

The Long Haul,

And all her colours.


Oh my god it feels like I've been writing a novel! Which it's not ;-) Now, on to LIFE… I hope to get three chapters at least out by Christmas. I could have made this longer, and longer and...you get the picture. A~