So, I've REALLY been trying to make a dent into the unfinished stories on my laptop. This one has been sitting, about 90% finished for at least ten months. I just kept getting stuck on the end, as is a very common issue for me. I guess one of the silver linings of this quarantine is that I've had more time to figure this shit out. Otherwise, who knows when or if I would've finished it.
Anyway, I hope you guys like this one. There is a small section of M-rated material, but you'll have plenty of warning and if you want to skip it, you can just pick up the story again at the next story break.
Again, it's different from the rest of the chapters in this stories, but hopefully everyone will enjoy it.
««« ×ǁ CAN OPENER CHRONICLES ǁ× »»»
It's overwhelming and sudden – the dizzying sensations and vertigo that force his eyes shut as the skidding of tires ring loudly in his ears.
There are several moments of being abruptly thrown forward, only to be dragged right back by the strength of his seatbelt, before the ordeal starts all over again – this time being flung to the left and then cast back to the right.
His adrenaline is pumping, blood is rushing to his head, and everything is quickly spinning out of control as he continues to get jerked in all different directions. He vaguely recognizes the curse words falling from the driver's mouth before a deafening BOOM echoes throughout the vehicle.
After that, he's in a fog, everything sounding so much further away.
Oh shit.
It's the last thought he remembers having.
(→→ ←←)
He wakes up feeling disoriented, overcome with the sense that something isn't right.
But, as his eyes adjust to the sunlight, he can't quite place the reason for it.
He's in his bedroom, right where he should be. Still, he can't shake the feeling that he's supposed to be somewhere else – except, he just can't figure out why.
Confused, he continues to wrack his brain when a quiet yawn and a shift in the mattress take him entirely by surprise. Assuming he was alone, he quickly turns to investigate who is sharing his bed with him.
"Morning," she says, sleepily, her tired eyes meeting his.
Instantly, he's put at ease, a relieved sigh escaping his lips – the messy bedhead and the warm smile on her face making all his previous anxiety vanish.
Still, her presence in his bed is perplexing, to say the least.
She's definitely not supposed to be here, yet she's acting as if finding her beside him is not at all out of the ordinary. She's just smiling at him, like it's any other day and it's really throwing him off, her whole demeanor only intensifying his confusion.
He's doing his best to try and remember what happened last night, but he can't recall a single thing. It's all such a blur.
Unsurprisingly, she picks up on his unease – a flash of genuine concern coloring her features as she reaches out to caress his jaw. "You okay?" She wonders, her fingertips gently grazing his morning stubble.
It's such an intimate gesture, and not at all something he's used to receiving from her; yet, somehow, she's making it seem so natural – like she's done it hundreds of times before.
For a moment, he actually forgets that she hasn't.
Taking a second to search her features, he stays quiet while he continues to comb through his memories, hoping to make sense of the situation.
And then, it all just clicks – the answer suddenly feeling so obvious.
It's all a dream.
It's not as if it hasn't happened before – he's dreamt of being with her more times than he'd care to admit, and even though this one seems a bit different, a bit more real, there's no other explanation for what this is.
Still, he can't quite shake the strange feeling that continues to surge through him. It's as if there's something he's missing, something he's forgetting – the sensation is strong and he's almost sure of it.
He's trying to think back, feeling like the answer is just out of his grasp, but he keeps coming up empty-handed.
"Harvey?" She says, aiming to get his attention after too much time has passed.
"I'm okay," he tells her, offering up a reassuring smile as he dares to let his fingers drift down her side. It's his usual move when he finds himself in this position – savoring the opportunity and playing along.
"You sure?" She questions, not quite believing him.
Even in his imagination, Donna can somehow read his thoughts.
"Yeah," he confirms with a nod, his tone containing more certainty this time around. "I was just having a weird dream," he explains.
She briefly considers the response, eyeing him with the same exploratory curiosity she applies in real life, until she is eventually appeased by the answer.
"Well…" she responds, a smile lighting up her face, as she throws a leg over his lap and maneuvers her body to straddle him. "Knowing you, I think I could probably guess what it was about," she declares, punctuating the playful accusation with all kinds of brow.
It's then that he first notices that one of his t-shirts is swallowing her delicate frame – it's a white tee from the Yankees' 1999 World Series win and it's never looked better.
"Oh yeah?" He replies, already amused, as his hands instinctively land on her bare thighs, all other thoughts gone from his mind as soon as he feels her soft skin under his fingertips.
"Mhm," she nods, gazing at him with those deep hazel eyes. "And I want to hear all about it," she decides, a seductive smile flickering across her lips.
And the way she's looking at him mixed with the fact that she's sitting right on his cock – nothing between them except the thin fabric of his boxers, he already knows he'll tell her whatever the hell she wants to hear.
"You do, huh?" He teases, grinning like an absolute fool, as his hands wander higher up her thighs.
"It's only fair," she retorts. "I told you about my dream last week," she pointedly reminds him.
Harvey can't help but linger on that thought – Donna dreaming about them? He would really like to hear that story again.
"Tell me," she implores, interrupting his reverie.
"Okay, okay," he gives in with a quiet chuckle, trying to come up with something to say. Except, it really doesn't take as long as it should to think up a scenario. All he has to do is reflect back to the dreams he's actually had about her – and there are plenty to choose from.
"We were at the firm and we were both working late – we were the only ones left on the entire floor…" he begins while toying with the hem of his t-shirt, letting his fingers explore what's hidden underneath.
"Hm. I wonder where this is going," she quips, a naughty tease to her tone.
"Do you want to hear it or not?" He asks, using a faux huff and a roll of his eyes.
She giggles and, even in his dreams, it's one of his favorite sounds. "Go ahead," she encourages.
"We were the only ones left on the floor," he repeats. "I was knee deep in a box of discovery when you waltzed into my office with this determined look on your face… as soon as I saw it, I just… knew," he relays, a smile already glazing his lips as the images flood his brain.
"What did you know?" She inquiries, even though she surely knows the answer.
"That you wanted me," his lips curving upwards as he divulges the words.
"I guess I wasn't hiding it as well as I thought," she willingly admits, deciding to play along with his story.
"Nah, in my dreams, you are always very open about it," he informs her, trying to suppress the smirk that's threatening to expose itself.
She laughs at that, and as soon as she does, he's powerless to his own expressions.
"So, what happened next?" She wonders once her laughter dies down.
"You walked over and sat on the edge of my desk, right beside me," he explains, recalling the details of the dream he had just a couple weeks prior. "You were wearing this dress," he stresses, momentarily closing his eyes so he can envision it in his mind. "The black one with the slit and the cleavage… the one you wore to Sal's wedding," he reminds her, memories of the evening flashing through his mind.
It was last May, when one of his biggest clients was getting married for the fourth time. He's been a guest at all of Sal's weddings and each one has always been stranger than the last. From impromptu flash dances in the middle of the reception to a winter wonderland theme with dog sleds carrying the bridal party down the aisle to a life-size wedding cake of the bride and groom.
No matter what, it was a given that the evening would be absolutely bizarre, which is why when the invitation arrived at the office, Donna practically invited herself. After years of hearing stories about his previous weddings, she wasn't about to miss the opportunity to see it with her own eyes.
Of course, he didn't argue with her – more than happy to bring her as his date. It wasn't like he had anyone else in mind, and he always had more fun when she was by his side.
It was just a couple weeks later that she announced she found a dress for the occasion and warned him that she was going to look hot.
And she was not wrong. Not wrong at all.
When he arrived at her front door, the day of the wedding, the sight of her in that dress left him instantly speechless – the way it accentuated every inch of her and showed just enough to make him so desperately want more.
He's thought of that dress a lot, since then.
"Mm that is a good dress," she agrees with a sweeping grin. "Though it's hardly work appropriate," she quips, pretending to chastise him for the dirty thought.
"Yeah, I wasn't too concerned about that," he retorts, licking his lips just thinking about her wearing the hell out of that dress again.
"So, you liked that one, huh?"
"You couldn't tell?" He asks, his expression turning skeptical. He's pretty sure he spent the entire night looking at nothing but her. He's also pretty sure she noticed.
"Yeah, I may have picked up on it," she smirks, looking quite pleased with herself.
"I spent the whole evening wanting to rip it right off you," he confesses, almost surprising himself with the admission before remembering that none of this is real.
"I guess that answers my question about what happened in your dream," she assumes, smiling down at him as the sunlight glistens against her red hair.
"Actually… in the dream, I fucked you in the dress," he tells her, practically grinning as the images drift through his mind.
"Well, maybe if you're good, I'll go put it on for you," she retorts, using a suggestive tone he instantly etches into his mind, never wanting to forget it.
"Hmm… maybe later," he decides, his hands traveling over her hips and up to her waist, a trail of goosebumps left in their path. "Right now, I want you just like this," he declares before swiftly flipping her onto her back and situating himself in between her legs.
Another giggle falls from her lips as her back hits the mattress and he hovers over her. He barely lets her catch her breath before he's leaning in and kissing deep into her mouth, not stopping until they're both gasping for air.
Always the multi-tasker, Donna pulls his boxers downs his legs while simultaneously nipping at his bottom lip. Following her lead, he quickly rids her of the t-shirt she's wearing, and when confronted with the sight of her, naked and in his bed, he needs a full minute to process it.
Her porcelain skin covered in a dusting of amber freckles, the fiery red hair splayed all across his pillow, the natural pout of her lips swollen from his attention, the bounce of her breasts, and the strawberry-tinted nipples beckoning for his touch – it's nothing short of perfection and he does everything in his power to engrave it in his brain.
"Harvey," she whines when his staring becomes too much. He hardly has a chance to react before she's reaching out and pulling him forward so his chest lands flush against hers.
He doesn't waste a second before his mouth is searching for hers, her palm warm against the back of his neck.
Soon, the room is drowning in appreciative noises and his head is spinning, once again. The feel of her body in his arms, her breasts pressing up against his chest, her fingertips digging into his shoulder blades, and the tight hot heat wrapped around his dick – it's utter ecstasy.
It's everything he remembers from the other time plus a few new things he's conjured up in his head, during the rare occasions when he actually lets himself think of her like this.
Before he knows it, her back is arching into him and this sharp whine is echoing in his skull as she comes, shuddering underneath him. He only makes it three more thrusts before he follows suit, her strong grip making him absolutely delirious.
Afterwards, he's feeling completely overwhelmed and immediately finds a safe spot hiding in the crook of her neck. And, of course, she lets him – rubbing easy circles on his back as they catch their breath together.
The whole thing feels strangely familiar, but also so new.
Mostly, it feels right.
(→→ ←←)
While their heartrates have finally started to normalize, neither one of them makes a move to untangle themselves from each other, both perfectly content exactly where they are.
It's odd – everything about this dream feels so different from all the rest.
It feels real.
There's no haze, no time jumps, nothing bizarre happening in between the normal.
They're just lying in bed, touching and caressing and kissing like he rarely gets to do when he dreams about her.
He feels happy – the kind of happy he never lets himself imagine where she's involved.
But, he is and he doesn't want it to end.
Which, of course, is the worst part – because, it will.
He's deep in his thoughts when, right on cue, she lifts her head and leans in for a brief kiss. He tries to keep it going, hoping to prolong this as long as possible, but she just smiles against his lips and pulls back to meet his eyes. "I love you," she tells him, the edges of her mouth twisting upward and her voice so soft and sweet.
The words take him entirely by surprise, his heartrate climbing while his mind goes blank – having no idea how to react.
It must show on his face because her expression immediately becomes quizzical. "What?" She asks, tilting her head to the side. "You know I love you," she tells him, seemingly confused by his apparent shock. "It's not like I've never said it before," she points out, almost amused by the reaction.
Her words continue to stun him and he's once again overwhelmed by this dream. Never before has he dreamt of her saying anything remotely close to this and the concoction of emotions coursing through him as a result are confusing as hell.
As much as he doesn't want to acknowledge it, the words are music to his ears – immediately making his heart soar. Except, the glee he feels is also somewhat devastating given that he'll eventually have to wake up and confront the truth.
But, she's still looking at him waiting for a response, so he responds the only way he knows how.
"I know," he smiles, warmly. "It's just… sometimes, I still have trouble believing it," he tells her, more honest than he can even admit, at the moment.
Donna responds with a bright smile as she reaches up and runs her fingers through his hair. "Well… believe it," she declares before stretching her neck to get at his lips, initiating several passion-filled kisses. In fact, they're quickly getting carried away again when she abruptly pushes at his chest and pulls back, just enough. "Wait," she says, a chuckle tumbling from her lips. "We can't – we have that meeting with the realtor at eleven, remember?" She reminds him. "C'mon, if we don't get up now, we'll be late," she adds, not even waiting for a response before she rolls out from under him and hops off of the mattress.
He wants to ask questions, but this seems like something he's supposed to know, so as usual, he just follows her lead and gets out of bed.
As he steps into his closet, he's surprised to find all of his old suits replaced with a good chunk of her wardrobe – the light and airy fabrics mixed with the bright feminine colors sitting right beside his dark masculine suits is quite the unexpected visual, prompting him to once again consider how different this dream seems to be from all the others. Previously, his dreams always consisted of just one single night – their first night together in over a decade. Never before has his subconscious let him venture into what an actual relationship with her could look like.
But, apparently, this is it.
And honestly, it looks pretty damn good.
(→→ ←←)
After showering and getting dressed, he finds two thermoses full of vanilla coffee sitting atop his kitchen counter right beside two perfectly toasted bagels smeared with cream cheese.
The sight elicits a smile as he lifts the thermos and takes a sip, relishing the liquid that slides down his throat. It's not the least bit surprising that it's exactly how he likes it.
She's always made it better than anyone else.
Minutes later, she waltzes out of his bedroom wearing a pair of skinny jeans and a green cowl neck sweater. Her hair is in loose waves and her makeup is light – just a bit of mascara on her lashes and a touch of blush coloring her cheeks.
She is absolutely beautiful.
As he takes in the vision, his gaze eventually travels down her legs and is surprised to find her wearing a pair of black flats. It's certainly different from what he's used to, but it takes all of two seconds for him to decide that he really likes her like this.
Of course, he likes her in heels, too, but there's something about the height difference when she's wearing flats that he enjoys more than he probably should.
Strolling up to him, she's beaming with a beautiful smile, and before he can say a word, she's standing on her toes and pressing her lips to his.
Smiling right back at her, he pulls her in for one more kiss. It's frightening how automatic the move is – completely instinctive in a way that shouldn't be possible, even in a dream.
Soon after, they grab their coffee and bagels and take an Uber to the car club. He lets her choose the model and after several minutes of perusing, she picks out a Jaguar XF, which he thinks is a good choice.
They spend the entire afternoon driving around the city, looking at condos in all of the best neighborhoods.
Apparently, they're buying a place together, which, remarkably, doesn't even scare him.
In fact, he actually catches himself feeling rather excited by the idea.
Until he remembers that none of it is real.
And then it crushes him so much more than it ought to.
(→→ ←←)
Hours later, they get back to his place, exhausted from their eventful day of exploring the city.
As he washes out their thermos and places them back in the cabinet, she saunters over to his record player and puts on some music, settling on a Max Roach album that used to belong to his father. As the notes enchant Harvey's ears, delighting him with an array of fond memories, Donna slips into the bedroom to change.
By the time she returns, he's sitting on the couch, his eyes closed as he enjoys the familiar track. It's not until he hears her stroll back into the room that he feels the need to open them, seeing that she's paired her favorite leggings with a comfy top and an oversized cardigan sweater.
It doesn't escape his notice how comfortable she is in his space.
He doesn't want to like it.
But, he does.
Waking up to her wild red locks and loving smile, her leg thrown haphazardly over his, as her warm hands roamed his skin. Joining her in the shower, her lavender shampoo invading his nostrils, as he watched the suds slide all the way down her slippery body. Standing out on the terrace and savoring the cup of coffee he can never make as good as she does. Laughing until his stomach hurt as she read aloud all of the dramatized descriptions of the condos they were going to see. Stealing glances and listening to her sing along with the radio as they drove through the city. Holding hands and sneaking kisses while she entertained him with firm gossip and silly stories from her youth as they waited for the realtor. Watching her eagerly wander through condo after condo, her eyes so bright, as she inspected every inch, and told him exactly how he should feel about each one.
The longer this goes on, the harder it is to convince himself that he doesn't want it – that he doesn't think of her in that way, that he doesn't have those feelings.
The longer this goes on, the more he wonders if this is something he could have. If there's a chance he could make her this happy, once he finally wakes up.
The longer this goes on, the more he wonders how he'll ever go back – how he'll ever be able to pretend there's nothing more between them.
As terrified as he is to admit it, he knows he can't keep running from this – running from her.
She's always been different and it's time to finally face the reality of why that is.
He's unsure what comes over him, but suddenly, he's making his way to the kitchen, determination in his step. When he finds her, she's pouring them each a glass of wine – her hair up in a messy bun and barefoot, her perfectly manicured toes a dark shade of maroon that match her fingernails.
"Hey," he says, his tone hinting at something being on his mind.
"Hm?" She responds, glancing up at him with a warm smile.
As he stands in front of her, he reaches out, letting his hands find her waist. He immediately tugs her towards his chest until she's staring up at him, her arms automatically circling his neck. Struggling to find the words, he's feeling more nervous than he should. It's not even her potential reaction that's tripping him up – he knows this whole thing is just a figment of his imagination.
It's more the significance of finally admitting everything he's always been so determined to suppress.
But, he's done pretending.
"I love you."
(→→ ←←)
The words are still echoing in his ears when he's suddenly confronted by a blinding light. It's so bright that he can already feel the searing headache coming on as he moves to desperately shield his eyes. Except, no matter how hard he tries, he can't seem to shade himself from the glare.
He's not sure how long he continues to struggle, but eventually, it's the confusion that takes over. He's somewhere else now and he knows it, but he just can't seem to place where.
His eyes are fighting to open as his ears ring with whirring and buzzing and beeping intermingled with some chatter in the distance.
He's smothered in exhaustion and his body aches all the way down to his bones, but he continues to fight, the discomfort he feels from the cloudiness in his mind pushing him forward.
It takes several moments to finally adjust to the light in the room, but once he does, he's still forced to blink a few times to clear up his vision.
Once he's finally able to see, he tries to push himself up a little, unable to stop the involuntary groan from leaving his lips.
He feels like shit, but his hazy memory is his first concern. As he absorbs his surroundings, it takes just a few seconds for him to realize where he is, and then slowly piece it all together.
The ice, the car accident, the EMTs pulling him out of the backseat – he's at the hospital.
As suddenly as it all clicks, another realization shoves itself to the forefront of his brain.
Donna.
It really was just a dream. Maybe some weird hallucination.
None of it actually happened.
It's not as if he's surprised – even as he was experiencing it, he knew it couldn't be real. Still, it doesn't stop this strange sense of disappointment from washing over him.
He barely has time to marinade in the feeling, though, because – as if she knew he was thinking of her, she suddenly materializes in front of him. "You're awake," she declares, when she walks through the door and comes to a halt, surprised to see him conscious.
"I'm awake," he confirms with a nod, his voice sounding scratchy and tired. At the sight of her, he's faced with the urge to touch her, take her in his arms, bury his nose in her hair – and, at the same time, his inability to do so.
It only intensifies the feelings of defeat coursing through him. Still, he does his best not to let it show.
"You look upset," she says, reading him just as she always does, while her tone is laced with bewilderment and a frown sweeps across her features.
"I was having a really good dream," he responds with a small shrug – even just that slight movement causing a sharp pain to ricochet inside him.
"Jesus Harvey, I was worried about you!" She exclaims, almost annoyed at his ridiculous answer. Still, she wastes no time in crossing the room and handing him a cup of water with a straw.
It's been quite a while since she worked for him and yet, she can still anticipate his needs like no one else ever could.
It's such a small gesture, but it does something to him, nonetheless.
He gulps down most of the liquid in an attempt to lubricate his dry throat, before eventually passing it back to her. "Thank you," he says, genuinely grateful.
"How are you feeling?" She asks while giving him a once over, searching for anything that could be of concern.
"I'm okay… just a bit sore," he explains as he absent-mindedly fidgets with his hands.
This really shouldn't be awkward, but every time he even looks in her direction, he's caught in a wave of memories – the seductive smile she gave him before she sat right down on his cock, the light in her eyes when she mercilessly teased him, the way her mouth hung open and her chin tipped in the air when her orgasm took hold, how her lips got so red and swollen after he spent all morning kissing them, the way she absolutely glowed whenever he made her laugh, along with so many other wonderful moments flashing through his brain.
Just thinking about them makes his heart ache as he's overcome with this huge sense of loss.
"I should probably go get a nurse," she realizes as his mind continues to spin with thoughts. "They'll want to know that you're up," she decides, before turning to walk out the door.
The moment she turns her back and begins to move away, this sudden urge to stop her rushes through him, prompting him to act before he can even think it through. "Wait," he calls out, before his brain has the chance to catch up.
Glancing back at him, she has so much question in her eyes, and he's pretty sure he can't even begin to give her the answers she's looking for, so he goes in an entirely different direction. "I'm not really ready to get poked and prodded just yet… can't you just… stay for a little while?" He requests, almost feeling embarrassed by the question.
"Okay," she responds, although she's definitely searching his eyes. It's obvious he's acting weird, but he's confident that even she won't be able to guess what the hell is going on in his head right now.
He watches as she makes her way back across the room and takes a seat in the chair beside his bed. Without a clue as to what to say, he lets a quiet sweep over them as he attempts to figure it out.
She's tapping her fingers against the arm of the chair, the touch of awkwardness apparently extending to her as well. She must know something is off with him and, if that's the case, he's sure she's going to ask about it if he doesn't change the subject soon.
He's just about to open his mouth, planning to mention work and the meeting he evidently missed, when she beats him to the punch.
"So…. what were you dreaming about?" She wonders, completely casual.
The question quickly puts him on edge – he has no idea how to even begin answering it, and he's never really known how to lie to her.
What scares him most – he finds himself not even wanting to.
As much as he doesn't know how to go about saying it, it's clear to him that he has to. He can't keep going on like this – he can't keep avoiding his feelings for her.
Blowing out a breath, he takes a beat to prepare himself for what he's about to do, second-guessing until the very last moment.
"You," he answers, soft but honest.
A silence blankets the room as she stares at him, her jaw dropped, trying to blink back the confusion that's swept across her face. "Me?" She clarifies, absolutely sure she misheard.
"Yeah," he confirms, feeling uncomfortable and so exposed, but determined to keep going. "You and… and me," he admits. "Us."
"Us?" She slowly repeats, completely wide-eyed. "You were dreaming about… us?" She recites, feeling the need to say the words out loud.
"Yes," he responds, his rash decision causing his heartrate to skyrocket.
"What… what about us?" She wonders, her curiosity peeking through along with what appears to be a drop of hope – although, that could just be his wishful thinking.
It's his last chance to backtrack – he could tell her he dreamt about them at work or make a tasteless quip about the other time, causing her to roll her eyes and change the subject.
But, as much as he's always been pulled in that direction in the past, he surprisingly has no desire to go there now.
He still remembers exactly how he felt in that dream – how stupidly happy he was. It's what spurs him on – the fact that all of those feelings are still lingering inside.
"I dreamt that… that I woke up and you were in my bed… that we were… together… and we were happy," he expresses, his heart pounding in his chest, as he awaits her reaction.
She's clearly stunned, trying her best to digest his words and formulate some sort of response, but she's seriously struggling, starting and stopping numerous times.
He just waits, trying to give her the space to think, while he internally freaks the fuck out.
His mind is an absolute mess – a whirlwind of chaotic thoughts, as he envisions the rejection he may endure and the awkward tension that is sure to arise from it.
He's halfway to a panic attack when she finally takes a breath and meets his gaze. "What does that even mean, Harvey?" She asks, her eyes clouded with uncertainty.
"I… I don't know, exactly," he acknowledges, as he sits up and slowly maneuvers himself so he's facing her. His body is screaming in pain from the movement, but he just has to be closer.
"But, I do know that… that I woke up and when I realized none of it was real… I was disappointed," he confesses, boldly reaching out and taking her hand in his.
She's quiet for what feels like forever, but in actuality is only ten seconds, just staring at the way he's holding her hand, gently stroking the back of her palm with his thumb.
"What are you saying?" She asks, her voice low and nervous.
As he gazes into her eyes, the answer seems simple, and he doesn't even hesitate as he says the words. "I'm saying that I want more," he declares as he gives her hand a gentle squeeze. "My dream – I want it to be reality," he stresses, a confidence in his tone that's always been absent from their prior conversations on the subject.
"You… you want more?" She repeats, in complete disbelief.
"Yes," he confirms with a nod as the beginnings of a smile play on his lips.
But, she still can't believe it. "Harvey, if this is just because of what happened… I mean, you just went through something pretty traumatic and –"
"Donna, stop," he quickly cuts her off, with a shake of his head, wanting to end that line of thinking, immediately. "That's not what this is," he assures her.
"Then what is it?" She probes, completely baffled. "This is just so out of the blue," she points out, trying to make sense of his sudden change of heart.
"I know it seems that way," he concedes. "But, these feelings… they aren't new," he tries to explain as he continues to stroke the back of her hand. "It's just that… I'm finally acknowledging them," he clarifies, hoping it's enough.
"I just… I don't get what's changed," she says, still struggling to comprehend all of this.
"I guess I… I got to see what my life could be like and I realized… I really want that," he relays, trying to persuade her.
"I… I don't know what to say," she tells him, blinking back the shock.
"Say that you'll let me take you to dinner tonight," he proposes, a hopeful grin plastered across his lips.
"Harvey, you're in the hospital," she reminds him as she resists breaking out in a smile.
"Okay…. then, I'll order takeout," he counters, determined to make this happen.
"To your hospital room?" She questions, a touch of amusement beginning to seep in.
"Yeah, why not?" He decides with enthusiasm.
A soft chuckle inadvertently escapes her lips before she pauses and gives him a once over. He's doing his best to project confidence and certainty, but inside he's an absolute wreck.
This is the biggest risk he's ever taken and if it doesn't pay off…
Well, he can't even consider that.
"Harvey…" she replies, not especially convinced.
Terrified that she's about to turn him down, he springs into action, and continues his attempts at persuasion. "Donna, c'mon – there's something here… isn't there?" He asks, that dreaded vulnerability sneaking up on him once again.
Holding his breath, he awaits her response, watching as her eyes search his and she carefully considers her words. It's not until he spots the slight nod of her head, that he's finally able to suck in some air. "Yeah… I guess there is," she admits, looking almost shy in a way he doesn't think he's ever seen before.
"Okay," he nods, a grin sweeping over his face as he releases a sigh of relief. "Good."
"Good," she agrees, unable to suppress her own smile.
"So, does that mean you'll have dinner with me tonight?" He questions, just wanting to make sure.
Nodding her head a bit more adamantly, a chuckle builds in her throat, and the sound is an absolute delight to his ears.
"Shitty Thai?" He suggests with a twinkle in his eye.
"Okay," she agrees, her lips twisting into an amused smile.
Battered and bruised, aching from head to toe, he can't remember the last time he felt this good.
(→→ ←←)
If he had ever dared to let himself imagine it, he never would've envisioned their first date being in a hospital room, him wearing a t-shirt and a pair of sweats, as they dine on takeout from the shitty Thai place.
Somehow, it's still perfect.
He spends the time listening to her detail the remainder of her afternoon – her phone call with the nosy Mrs. Randolph who tried every which way to get the particulars of his accident, the forty-five minutes she spent talking Louis down after he was informed of Harvey's whereabouts, and how stupidly proud Mike was of himself for convincing the potential client Harvey was supposed to meet with to retain the firm.
As always, her descriptions were full of enthusiasm, wit, and humor. She had him laughing so hard that he had to beg her to stop after the pain to his ribs became too much.
After that, they reminisce on years past – the countless pranks they played on Louis and his increasingly peculiar reactions to said pranks, the handful of times she accompanied Harvey to one of Gordon's shows, the dance marathon they unknowingly entered at the request of a client, Donna's many winning performances at the firm talent show, some of the most eccentric clients he's represented over the years, and of course the God awful dinner party made an appearance as well.
He's enjoyed the evening immensely, but it's been almost two hours since they finished their meal and they have yet to address the elephant in the room.
From the way she's babbling on even more than usual, it's clear that she's anxious, and he doesn't blame her – he is, too.
But, he won't let this get swept under the rug like everything else between them. Not this time.
After waiting for the laughter to die down, he utters that one simple word, the one that holds more meaning than all the others – "Donna," he murmurs in an attempt to get her attention.
"Hm?" She responds, looking up and meeting his expectant gaze.
"C'mere," he requests with a tilt of his head, gesturing for her to come sit on his bed.
Suddenly, she looks panicked, swallowing hard, before she nods her head and gets up out of her chair. She had moved it right up beside his bed when she had waltzed through the door a few hours earlier, so she doesn't have to go far, barely half a step.
Still, she takes her time making herself comfortable on the edge of the bed, clearly full of nerves. But finally, she's settled, sitting closer, but not as close as he'd like.
"Are we going to discuss what I said earlier?" He wonders, leaning forward a bit, his tone gentle and warm.
"Oh – okay," she agrees, obviously flustered.
Seeing her like this is not something he's used to, but he tries to take it all in stride. Leaning forward, he reaches out for her hand, wrapping his around hers and savoring her soft touch. "I just… I don't want you to think that they were just words – I meant everything I said," he assures her, his thumb dragging back and forth against her palm.
Blowing out a breath, her eyes lock on his, and he can't remember her ever looking so nervous. "I… I know," she responds, a light bob of her head.
"Good," he says, a warm smile stretching across his lips. "So… what do you think?"
"I'm not sure what to think," she admits with an exhale and a shrug of her shoulders.
It's not the answer he's looking for, but he doesn't allow himself to get discouraged. She's looking just about as vulnerable as he feels and he recognizes he needs to take this slow.
"I know it's a lot," he acknowledges, trying to choose his words carefully. "But I feel like we've been skirting around this for… forever, and – well, I've been skirting around this forever," he amends, knowing it's closer to the truth. "And I just… I really don't want to do that, anymore," he tells her, hoping she can see how serious he is about this.
She's nodding her head, listening along, and absorbing his words, but then the seconds tick by and he can see the wheels turning and it only makes him more nervous.
"We should be together," he continues, because he just can't bare the silence. "We should've been together this whole time," he insists, no longer feeling the need to pretend otherwise.
His words get quite the reaction out of her – her eyes opening wide and her eyebrows jumping a bit. The surprise would be obvious from miles away.
"I'm serious," he promises, before lifting her palm to his lips and placing a soft kiss near her knuckles.
Once again, the room falls quiet and it's slowly driving him mad. He tries to hold off as long as he can, attempting to be patient and allow her to work through her thoughts. But, eventually, he just can't take it – he has to know.
"Tell me what you're thinking," he encourages, his voice soft and warm, his anxiety rattling around inside.
It's a painfully long second that goes by until she raises her chin and just studies his face, and he's holding his breath the entire time. But then, he spots the slightest curve to her lips and he lets a speck of hope grow in his chest as he awaits her response.
"I'm thinking… that must've been some dream," she retorts, teasing him in a way that is so truly Donna it makes him warm all over, unable to suppress any of the grin that is sweeping across his face.
"It really was."
««« ×ǁ CAN OPENER CHRONICLES ǁ× »»»
Hopefully, the ending wasn't too bleh. Like I said, I really struggled with how to wrap it all up.
Anyway, hopefully this was enjoyable. Let me know what you think!
As I said above, I'm trying to clean out the stories on my laptop, so fingers crossed I'll be posting more often! I also have like six pages full of prompts and ideas, and I'm hoping to get to at least some of them, but I've been struggling to find the motivation.
So yeah, if anyone wants some prompts, hit me up! I'm more than willing to share!
Anyway, please let me know what you think. It's truly what keeps me going!