A/N: Thanks so much for your comments on Chapter 1. As promised, here's chapter 2. Things are heating up! Hope you will enjoy it.
Please leave a comment or review if you read this! It's always nice to know a few people are liking this and I like to hear from you.
-Fantomette (-:
"Harvey, it's beautiful. Look, we can see Manhattan." Her manicured index is pointing at the barely recognizable city in the distance.
They were lucky enough that a park ranger, who saw them walking on the side of the road in Bear Mountain State Park, had stopped and offered to drive them up Perkins Memorial Drive. 'Your wife will love the view the tower on the summit has to offer', had said the skinny, white-haired, bearded man.
There's a saying that when a wise person points at the moon, the idiot looks at the finger. Well, Harvey Specter is an idiot in love with Donna Paulsen because she's pointing her long finger towards Manhattan and his eyes are caressing her skin, from the tip of her index all the way up her arms, shoulders and long neck. Studying her features, he's wondering how soft the skin of her cheeks would be under his lips…
"Are you alright?" She's looking at him curiously. He can't remember how to breathe properly. It just hit him, that his car is on the side of the road but he isn't angry he's just happy because it means he gets to spend more time with her.
"I think I'm hungry," he recovers. "We should eat."
When they are going down the stairs of the tower, she stumbles a little and his hands grabs her waist, pulling her towards him, her butt hitting his front. He lets go rapidly. "Thanks," she whispers. He doesn't answer. He should not feel so warm after touching a woman, he had touched hundreds of women… What was one more? Dammit.
When they are stepping out of the tower, he's glad the air is cool. He needs it.
"There's too much wind on top," she says. "Maybe we should take a trail in the wood to go down and eat sitting on a rock or dead tree?"
"I brought a blanket," he replies while walking rapidly to a visible trail entering the forest.
She catches his pace and her fingers brushes the palm of his hand. "You brought a blanket but you forgot to fill up the tank of your Mustang…" She snaps her tongue on her palate. "Wow. What were you planning to do again today?" Her voice is silky, teasing him.
He reluctantly puts his hands in his pocket. If he leaves his hands within her grasp two more minutes, her fingers occasionally grazing his skin, he'll drop his bag, grab her and fuck her against a tree. That wouldn't be a…proper first date. She deserves much more than that. He's in love with her. He loves her. But she is slowly driving him crazy.
They walk in silence for a while. They haven't seen anyone except for a few people on the mountain top. Maybe because most people don't want to go hiking when it was snowing only a few weeks ago. After being so warm when he touched her earlier, now he's cold, but still happy. He's with her. She has always made everything in his life so much better…
"Have you called your mom recently?" Her voice resonates in the silence of the forest and he hears his own sighs coming out like an exasperated whine between his lips. So she knows? He didn't talk to his mom for years and Donna drops casually a 'have you called her' like it's something he does every week. She really does read people and she's particularly good at reading him. What was his tell? How did she knows they reconnected? He's intrigued but also talking about his mom is a topic he would have liked to avoid today. But it is Donna's birthday, he decides she deserves answers.
"Yes," he says without slowing his pace, looking straight ahead. "My therapist said it should be the next plausible step before…" He's not going to say it. He's doing so much better at opening up but he can't be a totally different man.
"How did you know we…?"
"You started scratching your wrist, near your left palm again. You did that back at the D.A. whenever she tried to contact you…" She is talking very calmly, careful not to upset him. "I guess things are going fine, I haven't seen you bleed in a few weeks. Healing?"
He remembers she once yelled at him through an argument, accusing him of keeping things from her all the time. He knows how all this was rhetorical since she always could read him like an open book. Yes, he was healing. Agard had been right, calling his mother helped him. It was taxing at first but now he no longer felt this lingering anger inside him.
"I'm meeting her at Marcus's. Next week." He continues after a deep breath. "I'd like you to come."
He wants her to come because he feels stronger when she's standing next to him. She makes him a better man: her having so much faith in him helps him be a better person.
He hears her stop walking behind him and halts his walk. He slowly turns around.
"Why?" she asks. She has the same serious look she had that time he told her he loved her just before leaving her apartment. He hopes he will not screw everything up this time. He is conscious he has a pretty bad record. Obviously, telling her he loves her would just open a Pandora box. She narrows her gaze at him, waiting.
"Because you are the one I want to meet my mother's with." He's being honest. Honest is good.
"What about Scottie?"
He's taken aback by her question, realizing Donna probably got the wrong impression when he told Scottie he wanted to call her after this whole Mike thing.
He wanted to call Scottie to make things "right", to try being friends. At least, that's what he thinks. Because seriously, he told Scottie he wanted to know if he could call her but the only thing on his mind in the past few months (except for the Mike drama) was Donna-Donna-Donna. How he could get her back. How he could make things right with her. How he could make her stay. The more he thinks about it, the more he's sure he didn't want to call Scottie to try a romantic relationship again. The last time was more than enough proof that they were wrong for each other.
"I told you before, Donna. I told you the other night when I came asking you for advice about what to do with Mike…" He takes a step forward but he is still not ready to touch her, maybe he never will be. "When it comes to personal stuff, it's you. Always you." The wind catches in her hair, making a strand falls across her face. It shouldn't: they are in the woods, maybe it's a sign there is a storm coming. But the only thing he sees right now is her. She's beautiful. He pushes her hair off her face with his fingertips grazing her skin and they lock eyes. For a few seconds he's afraid she might leave. He wants to kiss her, to feel how warm her lips would be against his but it might be too soon. He never wants her to leave ever again so he has to make everything right, he has to let her call the shots. She is looking at him the same way she was looking at him on the couch before he ruined everything. He still won't kiss her. Even if he feels she wants to. But this time he won't leave her or run away from his feelings.
"We should eat." He says after a moment. She nods and looks away.
He puts his bag on the ground and opens it. Unfolds the blanket and places it carefully on a dead tree that will serve as a bench. She sits and he sees her shivers. "You're cold?" He sits next to her, his leg pressed against her leg. He pushes his arm behind her back, leaning in, and he grabs the corner of the blanket, then wrapping the blanket around her along with his arm. She leans against him. They haven't been so close in years. Her perfume is familiar, her warmth his familiar, everything about her is what's been missing from his life… Touching. It's something they always avoided. The reason is pretty apparent in his pants right now. Bless this blanket hiding it all.
He detaches himself from her, needing his two hands to open the bag. He gives her a sandwich and opens the bottle of champagne, the cork flying high, making her laugh. He pours the liquid in two plastic cups. "Happy Birthday! Cheers!" He says smiling shyly handing her the plastic cup. She looks happy.
"You make a good sandwich," she admits between bites. "I didn't know."
"There is a lot you don't know about me." He tries to think. Then again, she is Donna, she knows everything. "I sing in the shower."
She rolls her eyes. "Harvey. I know. The Other time. Try again. Tell me something I don't know and I'll meet your mother."
He remembers that night clearly: he was SO HAPPY. He sang a really happy song in that shower. Not only he just had the best sex of his life he had found an incredible woman so yeah, he sang a cheesy song in the shower. And apparently, she heard him.
He finishes his sandwich and pours more champagne into his glass before taking a long gulp. He suddenly realizes she knows everything about him NOW.
"The first girl I slept with was Clara. I was a few weeks short of sixteen. We were in my basement watching a horror movie. It lasted a total of two minutes, including me pulling down and up my pants. I offered her milk and cookies afterwards. "
She starts laughing uncontrollably, so much that she has tears falling on her cheeks. "I imagine the whole scene. Harvey! How did you become New York City's best closer? Oh Right: You offered her cookies afterwards. Smooth move, Harvey!"
"Here's a cupcake," he says not missing a beat, opening a little box.
"Do you woos all the women by offering sweets?" She wrinkles her nose in distaste. "Okay. Don't answer that." He bites his lips, stopping himself from making some sexual innuendo.
He plants a candle in the middle of the chocolate cupcake and ignites it cracking a match. Her face goes serious. "Make a wish," he whispers turning his body to face her. If only he could read her mind and grant her what she wishes for. She closes her eyes and gently blows on the candle.
"It's nice that you did all this for me," she says grabbing the bottle of champagne to pour herself some more. She meets his gaze and she smiles. She smiles just for him. He shrugs like it's no big deal but inside he feels like there are firework waiting to explode. "I told you, I'm more sentimental than you think."
He's unable to hold her gaze and he focuses on the plastic cup in his hands. "Donna," he says in a low voice. "Thanks. For never losing faith in me. I certainly didn't deserve someone like you having so much faith in someone like me."
She's always been there.
He remembers that session with Doctor Agard when it hit him: he was the one who pushed Donna away the minute she wanted more. He dares lifting his eyes and the first thing he focuses on is her lips. He wants to kiss her so much it makes him dizzy just thinking about it. He then sees her eyes. He can't pinpoint the way she's looking at him. Is it sadness? Hope? Love?
He hears the sound of raindrops on the fresh spring leaves before he feels the cold wetness on his skin. "We should pack," he says getting up and folding the blanket. She gets up and downs her plastic cup of champagne, handing him the bottle that was still in her hands and he drinks straight out of it making her laugh again. He think it's crazy how every time she laughs it makes him so happy. It beats winning any big case.
They start walking and the rain starts pouring even more heavily.
"The sky was clear an hour ago!" He whines between his teeth. Donna is going to be cold and maybe sick, that date might make it on her list of 'worst date ever'. When they finally reach the Inn he sees she is shivering uncontrollably and her hair is dripping wet. He feels his undies are as wet as if he had swim fully clothed in a lake. He opens the door for her and once inside she grabs his hand. Her fingers are cold between his. She stops him before they reach the desk.
"Harvey. We should sleep here."
He studies her. She's serious. Still, he can't believe she is asking for… What the hell is she asking for? Maybe he slipped and his head hit a rock and he's dreaming in a semi-comatose state. It wouldn't be the first time he dreams about Donna wanting to have sex with him. He swallows the lump in his throat. Maybe she means as friends? Just for the practical side of it?
"Donna. I could call Ray and…"
"Harvey…." She draws patterns in his hands and pulls him closer, her other hand closing around his wrist. She couldn't be clearer and his cold, soaked undies couldn't be more uncomfortable right now that he feels like fire is running through his veins.
Her breath is warm against his skin as she speaks softly, her cheek against his cheek: "Harvey, I'm cold. You're warm. We should sleep here."