Note: Silly little thing that wouldn't leave me. I was curious what would happen if Harvey got to see Donna's headshots and this just kind of spilled out of me. Enjoy :)

Thank you Heather and Alyssa for the beta, I love you both!

The Merchant of Venice is not for the faint of heart; Harvey's legs are stiff and his bladder aches, but he's surprised how quickly that all fades away every time Donna takes the stage. Her presence is enthralling, and even if he didn't know her he's sure it would be impossible to look away.

Donna commands in every aspect of her life — commands attention, respect, dignity. This is no different. She comes to life here, captivating the room with soliloquies under the lights and shadows, and Harvey is struck by her poise and grace.

He stands up, claps furiously as she bows and her eyes meet his for the faintest second, the corners of her lips turning up at the megawatt smile on his own face.

But for all her plays he has seen — and he's seen them all, since the day she moved to his desk — this is the first time he's waited in the lobby for her to emerge. He's never stayed before; it's another unspoken rule, that his presence remains unacknowledged, just another face in the crowd.

Now? He meant it when he told her she's the only thing he has going on tonight. He wants to forget for a while, and Donna has a way of making the rest of the world disappear.

He'll tell himself that's all it is.

(In truth, she's stunning and brilliant and worth more to him than anything, and he wants to be the one to take her home.)

A clamor to his right steals his attention, and he turns toward a crowd of people gathered in front of a giant billboard, black-and-white photographs arranged in a gridlock.

One in particular catches his eye, and his feet carry him over before his brain has time to catch up.

Soft curls frame her face, gorgeous slender nose between deep hazel irises that entrance and entice, effervescent pools of caramel. Her skin is glowing yet matte, and he frowns at the realization that her freckles have been airbrushed away. That's the only flaw, he thinks — because Donna has no flaws, and the fact that the beauty industry sees her freckles as one makes him rage.

Donna Paulsen

Portia

Donna holds a BA in theater from Yale School of Drama, and has appeared in such productions as Macbeth (Lady Macbeth), Midsummer Night's Dream (Helena), Sunday in the Park., Bridges of Madison County (Francesca Johnson), Hello Dolly (Irene Molloy), among others.

He touches the grainy image reverently. It's his Donna, and yet, it's not. Bright-eyed, young, her whole future ahead of her.

A knot forms in the pit of his stomach.

Did he take that from her?

Logically, he knows that's not true; Donna's the one who propositioned him all those years ago, but he's not so naive as to ignore all she's done for him since and all the times she could have (should have) walked away.

Still. He gnaws on his lip, stares into the eyes of Donna Paulsen, seasoned actress, and wonders why she didn't.

Harvey startles when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

"Your wife is beautiful," an older woman drawls warmly, smiling at him. "And talented to boot. You must be very proud."

Harvey simply nods as she pats his arm and walks away. He's too dumbstruck to react beyond that.

Suddenly there's a flurry of blue silk and red cheeks and wild eyes as Donna rapidly explains she just needs to change and they can go; before he can reply, two older couples have stolen her attention, praising her performance and Donna grins, soaking in the moment and he's bursting with pride that he has no right to feel, yet he does, because he's always proud of Donna and she should know that. Does she know that? He meets her gaze as she turns toward the dressing rooms; she's wary, as though she senses he can't wait to get out of here. Because they don't do this — he doesn't stick around. She doesn't expect him to.

In that moment Harvey can't think of anywhere he'd rather be than here. Waiting to take Donna's arm, to walk out of the theater with the best actress on that stage tonight.

—

She's in yoga pants and a sweater, and Harvey can count on one hand the number of times he's seen Donna so...casual. He likes it. Her hair looks longer, almost, red strands bouncing off her shoulders and the static causes them to brush against his nose as she holds open the door to a diner on Madison.

She orders fries and nothing else and he doesn't comment, just smirks as she generously dips one in mayonnaise and pops the whole thing into her mouth. He takes a bite of his burger and drips ketchup down his shirt and she laughs and rattles off some line about drops of blood and pound of flesh and he rolls his eyes good-naturedly.

"Thanks for coming, Harvey." It's delicate, yet purposeful enough for him to know she means thanks for staying.

He looks down at her plate and shrugs, stealing a fry and chewing it obnoxiously in lieu of an answer.

He wishes they could spend more time together, like this. But if he allows his mind to go there, it won't lead to anything good, so he swallows and changes the subject.

"You gonna introduce me to that killer redhead I saw on the cast list? She's hot."

Donna fixes him with a look, though she's blushing. "I didn't know you saw that."

"How come I haven't seen it before?"

She raises an eyebrow. "You've never asked."

"Well, I'm asking now. Any more evidence of your modeling career you've been stashing away?" He grins, leaning towards her and she snorts out a laugh.

"Trust me. You do not want to see my college headshots."

His eyes widen. "Don't I?"

Donna crosses her arms, stares him down. He stares right back, egging her on in a way that might put him in deep shit but hell, he's enjoying this too much.

Finally she blows out a long stream of air and pulls her phone out of her bag. She points at him with one slender, manicured finger. "Don't tell a soul."

He holds up his hands in mock surrender. "Your secret's safe with me."

She glares at him for a moment before turning her attention back to her phone, carefully scrolling through the device until she finds what she's looking for.

He holds out his hand expectantly, but she hesitates, cradles the phone to her chest.

"Don't laugh."

Harvey tilts his head, pursing his lips. "I won't laugh."

She sighs and hands him the phone. "It was the nineties," is all she says in defense.

Her hair is fluffy and wild, and the bangs, jesus, the middle part and the bangs tied back with that ostentatious hair clip should be a crime, but she still takes his breath away — sparkling eyes, dimpled smile, and her freckles are bared in all their glory and he can't help the grin that spreads across his face.

"It's horrible," Donna whines from behind her hands, peeking through her fingers and he chuckles.

"You sure this wasn't the eighties?" He jokes and she hits him. "Ow," he laughs.

"My hair can't be tamed," she huffs, snatching the device out of his hands.

"Donna," he says seriously, and she looks up at him, expectant and curious.

You're beautiful.

You've always been beautiful.

I'm so glad you're here with me.

Harvey swallows the compliments on his tongue with great difficulty. "Glad you went with the second one."

He smiles softly, holding her gaze and maybe he doesn't realize the double meaning, but there sure as hell is one. She blinks, then smiles back, almost forlorn, shaking her head in amusement.

"Meeeeee too." She pushes away from the table, from the underlying current of emotion and all that remains unsaid. "Come on. Dinner's on you."

"You're the big star here, shouldn't you be treating me?" Harvey gripes as he tucks a twenty under the ketchup bottle.

"Please. I haven't made it yet."

"You could."

Donna pauses at the threshold. Doubt is evident in his stance, hands flexing at his sides as though they can't quite decide whether or not to reach for her.

She grabs his wrist and links their fingers together.

"I have my hands full. I'm good."

He nods, squeezes her hand in return and lets her lead him out onto the street.

Thank you so much for reading!