Donna
Spite and terror are resting on Donna's shoulders. One wants her date to be a complete disaster so she has time to stop this overactive race in her pulse, and the other wants him to be the perfect specimen for her lose herself in sleeping with that night. Calm the storm crashing her in every direction, causing a dizzied panic.
Rage seems an odd reaction to an 'I think I love you'. But logic hadn't met a nearly fourteen-year ambiguous relationship told in subtext, and undone it by half-attempted declarations.
As luck would have it, her date is like landing on all 7's. A jackpot.
She'd known Brian something-or-another— because at this point her brain doesn't care —from him having been a regular at her previous yoga studio. He happened to be a client of Samantha Wheeler's.
He's ticking all the major clichéd best traits. Attractive, fit, humorous, a gentleman, intelligent but not to the point of mansplaining. Intuition tells her he could be good for her. Better for her than she'd ever allowed herself to have. She'd happily accept a second date or even extend this one. He's smiling and giving her looks that should be having her heart freefall.
But the only thing she needs him to be, he isn't. And that one thing dismantles this anomaly of a perfect date.
He's not Harvey.
She hates the man that's destroying this moment. He'd all but taken every single relationship from her since they'd met, and never offered more than vague deflections about how they weren't that way. And now, when they're the closest they've ever been, and she'd forced thinking of them in that way is the furthest from her thoughts, he thinks he's in love with her.
Like he couldn't fully commit, just to make sure he gives himself the exit card. She's analyzed, and knows he's always been his way. Whenever she pulls away or finds someone else. Ups his flirting. Finds some late nights. Needs her in a way that's more than professional.
Now it's because of Mike leaving. And Zane. And kisses and words he could blame on confusion by way of a wording technicality.
She's had enough. Of them. Of being different, normal, and only okay. Of hiding behind not quite feelings. Of not confronting the situation with the exasperation it merits.
She's pounding on his door. Fury filled over her collapsed date and his ill-timed lips.
His door swings open and his eyes are wide. "Don—"
Before he can finish her name she lunges for him, hands pulling him down and lips sealing to his. A throwback to the last time she'd done this, but with more purpose and definitely less care.
He's been drinking. The harsh taste of scotch informs her tongue, and she'd question his state for this if not for his assured haste to reciprocate.
He pulls back suddenly, brow furrowed.
"Goddamn you, Harvey." She leaves no time for response. Her mouth follows her words to continue her attack, not allowing space for half-truths.
In or out. His only two options. Her open lips challenge him, sucking his bottom one between hers.
Apparently, he didn't need almost confessions to stay in because he's heightening his response. Spinning her around and controlling steps back toward his bedroom. Her back hits the kitchen countertop and he lifts her there, setting her on the surface. His body forces her thighs to part, her center hitting his arousal when he jerks her forward.
Eyes scan her face, a wrinkle between his brow but she answers his unspoken questions by taking a handful of his T-shirt and yanking him to her. Her tongue invades his mouth, tempting his forward, sucking it toward her own. He lets out a muffled groan, his hands not seeming to know where to start. Her face, her neck, wrapping around her sides.
She's shocked him, challenging him to be the man he'd been for everyone else but her. He keeps trying to slow them down, moving to her neck, kisses more searching for her hidden answers. She won't let him. She's pressing his head to her, hand sinking under his waistband until sounds muffle between their joined mouths from her control.
Gentle isn't what she wants. There's a frenzy inside her. One she isn't sure is fair but she can't seem to turn around from. She's daring him, she's not even sure with what. To reject her, to use her, to prove to both of them this path would forever ruin them in the end. To show him he can't really want her the way he's always wanted everyone else.
Suddenly he's ripping away, fingers wrapped around her forearm, stopping her hand. "Donna. Maybe we should slow things down."
Her bottom lip is hanging, and she's not even sure how it got that way. It's manifesting the tremble building inside her, face burning. Every single fear rationalized in real time between them. Mortifyingly. With her hand around him. She closes her lips to steel herself, disentangling and hopping off the counter, standing taller to walk away.
"What are you...Where are you going?"
"You don't want this. You ruined my date. I'm going home to drink a bottle of wine." Or three.
He catches her wrist. "You're the one that walked out on me."
"Because I was waiting for history to repeat itself!" Her hands are moving erratically but she can't seem to even herself. She curses him even more for that. "Like it just did."
He takes her hands in his, and she leaves them there with reluctance. "I'm not rejecting you, Donna."
She's avoiding looking in his eyes. Only now taking note of her surroundings. He's shed his coat and tie, top buttons free. Then she sees how the warm shadows of the fireplace dance on his ceiling.
A hand finds her face, fingers resting on her neck, jaw, cheek. She closes her eyes. His thumb brushes so lightly she could be convinced it's proof he's telling the truth.
"You're not the only one scared, you know."
"And I'm not the only one holding back," she says in defiance.
"What?" His hand falls away.
"I think I'm in love with you? And kissing me like you only half mean it."
His jaw firms and he stands up straighter. She's got to him then. "Donna—"
"You've wanted all the rest all these years but not me. And it shows."
"I've always wanted you." His voice is so deep and emotional she feels it twist her stomach. "You're the one that set the rules. And I've turned myself inside out trying to follow them."
"Then show it. Treat me like anyone else, and stop acting like you're either too afraid or don't really mean it."
His lips press together and he searches her, a flick of his eyes over her face. Still in a war with trying to ask for permission. Maybe weighing if she's worth the fight. She's about to bolt when he jerks her waist forward and lips take her, hands mastering the slant of her head for his full exploration. Greedy and smooth, somewhere between dominant deals and erotic dance. Tongue coaxing sounds out of her mouth she has no control over. Soul slipping down, gravity-rich into an abyss he rules.
He backs her quickly toward his bedroom this time, so much so she's terrified of falling if not for the hands splayed possessively on her spine. He stops just inside, mouth taking time to explore every inch of bare flesh exposed by her neckline. She's suffocating with want. How reckless did she have to be to taunt him into a game of seduction? To trust a man previously incapable, to focus on her long enough to catch a fall?
His fingers attempt to separate her neckline, but the fabric is too stubborn to comply. He spins her around, taking her breath. Mouth teasing while he draws down her zipper. She turns back, crossing her arms to help the fabric slip off her shoulders and to the floor. He's still. Only a slight move of his jaw angle and a rise and fall of his chest as he fully takes her in. His eyes are darker than she's ever seen them. Dizziness is plucking her up and dropping her at his will.
He moves to the buttons of his shirt, which her uncharacteristically shaky hands assist with. He loses his pants next, and before she can take him in he's kissing her again. Open and deep. First mouth, then corner of lips, then jaw and lower.
Arms are wrapped around her back, palms skating bare skin. He unhooks her bra. Fingertips slipping under lace in the front. Instead of pulling it off, he uses the looser itchy fabric to brush over her hardened nipple. Heat from his thumb and kneading the roughness over the rest tantalize her. He pulls it away from her body, discarding it like it's useless. Then he's crouching down. He hooks her knees and spreads her thighs around his waist.
They lose themselves. Skin to skin. Baring all physical between them. Fear has no chance to protest met with the rush of his hips. Perhaps they could last without time to catch thoughtful breaths. There's no complication in his seeking her demise. Her body gives her no choice but to bend to the consummation of want.
His lips seek her, over available and flushed skin. Taking her, in the way she'd tried to avoid by convincing him his gentleness with her is somehow a flaw. Lips soft, hips hard. Each connection plunging her toward more than release.
He keeps looking to her. Her name falling off his lips. Fingers finding hair or skin to brush. Emotion and intensity he's released like she's beaten a further level on the challenge of Harvey. The considerate lover that he is, his hand tries to help her along. She blocks him.
"Later. I just...want to feel this." Reality is removed and it's just them, and she has no clue what's real beyond feeling right tonight. And she wants to hold onto every second. Not slow down. Not chase a climax that may come on its own.
He complies, his palms finding another home under her buttocks. And their names slip into the air with uncontrolled pants is all that surrounds them.
He finishes before her and somehow it's right. She didn't need a release from him, she needed an implausible fantasy fulfilled.
In an instant, he's disappearing from above her. A panic beats at her chest, but then his face is between her thighs. He steals any decency she's holding back in an embarrassing number of seconds. She's fully lost.
He spoons her against him that night as if his arms are locking her from running away. Face buried in the crook of her neck. He whispers, "You're never going to be like anyone else for me."
She crumbles into him. Then falls asleep with an ache of dread.
They're together most nights in the coming weeks. Always at his place. Always in a similar way to the first time. They talk less, make love more. And he still holds onto her like he's afraid if he lets go she'll disappear.
She feels almost like they've bent time. Thrown themselves back to their earlier versions of that night so many years ago where the theater enthusiast from Cortland put on her best show of confidence for the cocky and over-attractive lawyer way beyond the experience she wore. The younger version of her could turn him down with practiced indifference. Somehow years and loyalty had made that version of herself almost risk all.
They don't do late nights at the office anymore. Somehow in the search for more, they gained sex but lost friendship. She has more of him but misses all the rest.
Robert Zane takes Harvey's office. The managing partner's office. It creates an even more painful distance. Familiar, but like stepping into your old home with all your belongings and a different family.
He smiles more now. Maybe not as widely as she knows he could. He's picked up hints of intuition from her over the years. Which is maybe why he's blocking out the chasm sex has created between them. He's got experience ignoring issues he doesn't want to confront.
She trips one day coming in from his balcony. Nearly falls on her face. In front of him. Of course, so he can tease her mercilessly.
Except instead he rushes to her, kneeling at her side. "You okay?" Alarm is ringing in his voice.
"I'm…" She's startled. By him. By the pain in her ankle and body.
"I'm calling an ambulance." He pulls out his phone and the brightness of his screen highlights wide eyes.
Her hand catches his wrist and stops him. "An ambulance? I'm over forty, not eighty. I'll be fine." She huffs out a laugh, abbreviated by pain.
"Well, let me look at you at least."
He cradles her skin as if she's precious, studying bruises forming on her knee and heel of her palms from where she caught herself. Her ankle is swelling and changing colors too. He leaves and puts a bunch of supplies by the couch, then returns to her.
Firm arms lift her into the air, bridal style before she even has the chance to realize he's done it. "Harvey! You're going to mess up your back and then we'll both be injured."
"You know you never give me enough credit." He deposits her sideways on his couch, then lifts her legs to sit and rest them on his lap. He wraps a towel around her ankle, checks with her on placement while applying ice. He holds it in place with an ace bandage. "You're lucky you weren't in those goddamn heels."
"I thought you liked me in those goddamn heels." She bends her head, raising a brow, teasing him with wide and challenging eyes.
His lip corners pull in, barely covering a smirk. He gently cleans a scratch on her knee, bandaging her up.
When he's finished, he pulls her onto his lap, staring at her palms. Finally applying a kiss to each slowly. "I'm taking you in." He says with a seriousness.
She smiles, in spite of herself. "You're acting like I'm five. Why are you so worried?"
"How can you ask me that?" He hand smooths down her hair, and he almost sounds hurt.
"It's all going to heal, Harvey. Except my ego at showing up to the office in a $4000 dress like this without matching shoes."
"When are you going to figure out how important you are to me?" He kisses her, not much more than a peck but she still feels her stomach drop. He smiles. "You've always been. We just didn't say it."
Her heart plunges, and keeps plunging. Deeper than any physical place she can name. Maybe somewhere where it's going to be impossible to dig deep enough to easily free herself if what they're doing makes her break.
She stands in his office doorway, sass ready, body curved while watching him work.
He notices. "Now there's a sight I miss more than anything."
"Minus this, you mean?" She shakes her ankle brace in front of her.
"I like you even better this way. You're less threatening." He gives her a lazy smile.
"I haven't used my position over you once," she protests, hobbling in and sitting in front of his desk.
"Your power over me is another story." They lock eyes, much left unspoken. "You doing my other superior's bidding now?"
"You know I wouldn't do that. He does too."
He stares hard at her. "You don't look like you're down here for an office quickie. So what, Donna?"
Her foot bounces above her crossed leg. "I volunteered to deliver the news, in case you might want me to cheer you up."
"Really. What's the news?"
She sighs. "Zane chose you to go to a conference in Dallas next week for four days."
His eyes go wide. "What?"
"Harvey." It's between a plead and a warning, because she knows he can blow this up with the unsteady ground between him and his new boss.
He groans. "You know what? It's fine. I'm taking you with me. We can go out in the evenings, you can explore the city—"
She shakes her head. "I have to work. Zane has me reorganizing—"
"Then I'm going to change that." He stands, marching through his office.
"Harvey."
He spins around, pointing to the ground. "He owes me!"
"And no one knows about us," she reminds him quietly.
His chest is rising and falling.
"Why are you so upset?"
"Because, Donna. I don't…" He lets out a rush of air.
She stands and walks over to him. Having to be apart isn't ideal, and travel could be a pain for someone as routined as he is, but she can't track what's behind all of this. It makes her wonder what else them being apart lately has made her miss. "It's just a few days. I'll be here when you get back." She lets fingers brush down his forearm, watching out windows carefully.
"You're not changing your mind while I'm gone?" He's watching her, fixed interest.
About them? Her chest pinches. "Why would you say that?"
"Nothing." He looks away, returning with a forced smile. "Promise you'll help me be able to last without you?"
She angles her head. "Is this your way of asking for me to suck you off before you go?"
His grin gets a little wider. "Sexting? Skype calls?"
"I'll give you my best."
He bites his lip. "I want to kiss you right now."
Her eyes shift. "Nothing at the office. We went over this."
"I know. I just wanted you to know it."
Her heart picks up every time she thinks of him that day.
They're both at his place a couple nights later like their normal routine, and she's at his mirror removing an earring, leaning against the counter.
He comes up from behind and loops his arms around her waist, chin resting on her opposite shoulder. "Can we stay at your place tomorrow night?"
"Why?" she asks, trying to keep her voice casual.
He disentangles from her. "They're painting tomorrow. I wanted to give the place a chance to air out."
She doesn't respond right away, focusing on removing make-up instead. She finally answers, shifting directions. "Maybe we could get a hotel."
She sees his body harden through the mirror. "I'm going to be at a hotel all next week."
"I'm not. I just thought it would be nice. Room service. Someone to clean afterward."
He's silent, watching her through the mirror, his posture slack. "You know what? Don't bother. I'll find something on my own."
"Harvey—"
"No, don't." His face is harsh.
Her shoulders drop. "No. You're angry with me, and I deserve to know."
"You deserve to know?" He takes a measured step toward her. "You realize we haven't spent one night at your place?"
She doesn't meet his eyes. "I hadn't thought about it."
"Well, I don't believe you."
"What?"
"I don't even know how you feel about me. Because you haven't told me." He has stalked towards her, only a foot apart. Accusation in the tight set of his shoulders.
She stands her ground. "Well, if you remember correctly, you haven't said more than that sort of the first time."
"I say it every goddamn day, Donna. You just don't want to hear it." He daggers his words, harsh and targeted with ever syllable.
"Like you said you wanted to be with me and expected me to know? Because I didn't get that memo either."
"Why should I say it? When you've been searching for the first reason you can find for us to fail."
"Because I'm terrified we are!" She throws her arms at her sides.
His breaths are coming in purposed and deep. His anger isn't unfamiliar to her, but unfamiliar to their relationship shift.
"I can't even spend the night at your apartment?" His question is so bitter, she almost flinches.
She backtracks, sensing she's losing a battle she'd always wanted to avoid. "We should just—"
"No. You know, maybe the reason you haven't been able to say it yet, is because you don't."
"Harvey," she pleads, fear coiling.
He's not looking at her. "Maybe we should spend tonight apart too."
She lets Ray drive her home, knowing Harvey's right about her holding back. A part of her is waiting for it all to fade away like the curtain call on the final show of a favorite play she was cast in. She's playing the part she'd always wanted. But every show has its run.
He doesn't call her that night, or the morning after either. They don't interact at work, because suddenly their paths aren't so mandatory to intersect anymore. She checks his schedule. He's swamped with clients. Probably catching up on meetings before he has to leave town.
There's a voicemail on her phone when she exits the shower that night. Her legs are shaky when she sees his name. She lowers to her bed.
Hey Don'
He's been drinking.
I'm sorry about last night. You were right. I haven't said it. But I do...I'm... in love with you. I know it now. I should have said it. It's not...easy for me. To say. Especially... because I don't feel like you're happy. And selfishly, I thought maybe you could be if I made it right enough. But you're not, so...
He takes a breath on the line.
Maybe we're not what I thought we could be. Because ultimately? I want you to be happy, Donna. More than I want to force you to make me that way. I'm gonna go. We should... talk before I have to leave next week. I'm heading to bed. I'm beat. I… Bye.
And the message is over. She drops her phone next to her, falling back. Breaths come in faster than she can fully push them out. Her chest tightens to brace herself for it, and burning spreads to her chest and sinuses.
This felt like his life replaying itself. Wait until he feels like it's too late to pour his heart out. She wants to run to him, get lost in the way he can make them travel to alternate times and worlds where they're making it together.
But she doesn't know where he is, because she was too fucking afraid to let him in. For a reason she can't now fully comprehend.
She has a grief hangover the next morning. Pounding headache, her stomach in knots.
Of course, it's the day she made early lunch plans with an old friend from the DA's office.
Kristin is still super into fitness. Perky and bleached even though she's also pushing forty. She's friendly though, and they've had chats and drinks on occasion over the years.
Donna's only half-listening as she picks at some unnamable salad.
"You'll never guess who called me last night. A partner from your firm!" Kristin says basically everything with excitement.
But this time, Donna's head shoots up. "Who?"
"That old ADA you used to work with. Harvey Specter."
Her skin grows cold. She's afraid of the coming answer. "Why?"
"Something about being lonely. I think he was drinking. Is he seeing anyone?"
"I...I'm not sure."
"Well, anyway he saw my name on the list for the conference next week in Dallas, and so he looked me up. We've got together a few times over the years. And between you and me, he's great in the sa—"
"I have to go." Donna shoots up in her chair.
"Is everything okay? You look awful."
"I'm not feeling well."
"Can I help?" Kristin stands, holding her phone. "I could call a boyfriend."
"No. I'm just going to call the office and go home." The excuse is for Kristin's benefit, but at this point, she thinks she might vomit before she can make it to a cab.
She barely manages the steps into her room. She slips along the side of her bed to the floor. And then the pain begins to pour out of her in a cluster of sobs. Shredding through her. Maybe crying is the process of digging everything out inside, leaving behind the ache of completely hallowing you out. When it's finished, scars heal and fade to numbness. Only when she's done she's only begun the first few hundred scrapes. Fresh and foreign pain, her body only adjusting to what will come if she fully loses him.
He hadn't slept with Kristin recently, that much is obvious. But in his state, he was fishing for someone to. And it hits her how easily this can all slip away and he could be in the arms of someone else again. In their bed, doing the things she thought were theirs and special for her with someone else.
She doesn't want him to. Everything she's ever felt for him hits, clearly. HD film, where they're starring and she's missed the point of the plot altogether.
The ache inside has dulled but is still constant. Failure now means a complete reset of her life. She sees the corner of a wooden box just under her bed. If she's going to lose anyway, there's no way she's doing it without giving this her all first.
She leaves him a message on his voicemail, asking him to meet her at her apartment, mentioning it's important.
He arrives in less than two hours. He's rough for wear. Tie off center. A cut from shaving. Suit less than pressed. Sunken eyes with extra deep wrinkles.
She reaches for him out of reflex, but he pulls back, face pained and avoiding.
Her chest constricts, still raw from the last 48 hours. She feels the effects in her eyes, like blood spilling through tears. "Are you here to end things?"
"I can never let you go. But I will. If you're unhappy." Fight is gone behind his words. Only anguish and the remnants of his softness for her remain.
She forces him to let her grab his fingers. She squeezes them, tugging until he meets her eyes. There's so much pain it nearly crushes her. She doesn't know why she couldn't see him before.
"I'm not. I want to show you something." She leads him to her couch and they sit. She hands him the wooden box next to her, not much larger than a shoe box. "This is what's under my bed."
His brow is scrunched together. "Am I supposed to open it, or…"
"Yes, you idiot." The word has never held so much affection.
He does a slight smile and removes the lid.
The mixture of papers, notebooks, photos, and trinkets are an obvious mystery to him.
She reaches over and digs into the box and pulls out a paperclipped pile of receipts, selecting one. "This is from the first handbag you bought me."
His brow raises.
"And this," she pulls out another one, "Is from that time we went to that pub to watch your father play."
"Santiago's?" His head tilts, staring at it between his fingers.
"Yes."
His eyes grow wide, humor behind his lips. "Do you have receipts for all the shit I've done with you over the years in here?"
She swallows, then takes a deeper breath. "Yes." She waves her hand, as he's flipping through the first notebook. "And photos. Notes."
"Donna, this is like a goddamn diary of details about me."
She clears her throat. "Yes. How do you think I do all my Donna shit?"
He shakes his head, chuckling. "You seem to claim intuition."
"That part is true. But I like to be a detective sometimes and a private eye needs their details. Plus, I'm sentimental I guess."
He's scanning through it, a slight smile on his lips.
The pages contain intimate details of words and gestures stretched out over years. It's more personal than she ever thought she'd allow him. Her breaths are shaky and hard to tame.
He eventually puts down the notebook and pulls out a photo, one of the time he forced her to go with him to a Harvard luncheon. And then he's looking at the receipt on top of the stack. There's a long pause while he stares at it. "Whipped cream?" He ticks his head to the side. "Strawberries."
She bites her lip.
"This is why you didn't want me seeing under your bed? A box you could have explained away?"
"Well, it's not the only one. It's sort of my little secret. I don't like people knowing something of me is disordered."
"Labeled, individual boxes under your bed is disordered?"
"Well, and it's also...immature. I'm not fourteen anymore but...maybe after losing everything so young, I didn't want to let things go so easily."
"So you have lots of these? Of who else?"
"Friends. And just a few. Not lots. Yours is the biggest."
"If I had a nickel for everytime a woman said that to me…"
She smacks his chest with the back of her hand. His big grin is back.
His face grows more serious. He lays his palm over the top, staring at it before finally looking at her. "You're showing this to me because you want to open up to me?"
She pulls in a long breath, hoping for enough courage for the culmination of why she asked him here. "You're the best friend I've ever had in my entire life." She feels the slight burn from emotion returning by way of her eyes.
"You're mine too," he says gently.
She breathes again, swallowing. "And I hurt you because I didn't say I love you. But the thing is...I don't know where I love you and I'm in love with you separate and collide. Or when either started. But they're both true." A tear slips down.
His thumb catches it, leaning into her. "Donna—"
"I know you called Kristin last night," she blurts out, needing him to hear it before anything goes further.
His head pulls back and eyes close. "God. That was—"
Her hand flattens between them. "I know. I just want to say that if you want me to be happy, I need you to never do something like that again."
He nods. "Done."
"And in full disclosure, I also have another box I keep under my bed."
His brow darts up.
"But I don't think we'll be needing it. Yet." She smiles at him, and it's a real one. Maybe the first real one she's had in a long time.
He's leaning in, lips ready to take hers.
"But I might need it when you're gone next week."
He smirks, catching her lips. "No, you won't. You're coming with me."
"I already said—"
"I talked to Zane. Said it might be a good experience for our COO since she's new to this part of the law world."
She shakes her head. "You're impossible."
"You know I can't survive without my favorite sidekick."
"I think we both know you're more like my sidekick at this point."
"That's negotiable. But I can live with it as long as you're next to me at work and...play."
"I think we just arranged that."
When they make love this time, all the pieces she's been holding back that felt like they would never fit, finally slip into place. She's reveling in the harmony of them together, deep staggered breaths of pleasure and emotion peeling away layers so deep that with each exhale they almost hurt. They're in symbiosis, like the finely timed push and pull they'd practiced for years in order to perfect. In tune with their bodies and each other. When they fall together in bliss, they're both smiling, letting go. The last part of the puzzle was her more.
He has her on speaker when he's calling Mike. He answers.
"I was calling to give you my new address," Harvey says.
"You… What?" The stun in Mike's voice almost makes her giggle.
"Is Rachel there with you?" Harvey asks.
"Yeah."
"Put her on, too."
"Okay." Michael sounds unsure but calls her over and it switches to speaker.
"Hello?"
"Rachel. I was giving Mike my change of address and Donna had one too. We're multitasking." Donna rolls her eyes and shakes her head at his ridiculousness.
"Are you?" Mike asks, short for words.
"Oh my god!" Rachel is practically squealing. "Are you two moving in together?"
"Donna needed more storage space." She shoves him, nearly knocking him over.
"It's true," Donna admits. "We're getting a place."
"I don't understand. When did this happen?" Mike asks.
"And why are we just now hearing about it?" Rachel chides.
Harvey meets her eyes, more behind them than she can still comprehend.
"I move quickly," Harvey teases, she's almost sure to get a roll of her eyes. "And we've been a little preoccupied."
"I'm sure I can guess where your focus has been," Mike throws back, and Donna can hear Rachel scolding his name.
"Only where it always has been." Harvey grabs her hand.
"Just a little more intensely," Donna says, leaning in to plant a kiss.
A/N's: Okay, first off, I want to thank everyone so much for the reviews, tweets, and messages. You all are seriously incredible. I had a rough week and this was my distraction and you made me feel loved too! From the anonymous ones, to the ones where you explained in depth what you felt, I treasure you! I also wanted to give credit to Spectographer for reminding me Harvey needed to be shirtless in Part 1 :P, and to Bew0G for the title idea!
About the story. I know this was more angsty, but in my mind Donna had been pushing away, while he was finally pulling closer. So it took her longer to let go. I hope I managed to pull that off emotionally. I'd so appreciate reviews to let me know what you think! It's my favorite part of sharing my writing.
Finally, thank you to Bew0G for inspiring me to write this, even through my protests. She is a constant encouragement and keeps me much more prolific than I would be otherwise. And a amazing friend on top of that. Hope you enjoy your writing gift. ~Blue