Harvey discovers, quite early on, that there is a different sort of intimacy in marriage.
Intimacy has always been a facet of his relationship with Donna; it's unwavering trust in each other, habits and patterns and body language memorized and tucked away as precious, laden in what they say and what they don't.
Only now, it's evolved, extending into this new chapter of their lives and blending into the physical.
It's a subtle shift — no drastic, life-altering realizations. He just... notices. The simple things become sublime.
Like today. They're showering together; he's mostly flaccid, her nipples are soft, and she spikes the shampoo in his hair, snickering before she returns to her own soapy locks.
It's less sex, and more actual bathing.
More about the closeness.
Harvey worries, at first, that there's something wrong with him, that he's this... unaffected by Donna in such close proximity, and at such an early stage. But it's not a lack of desire — it's comfort. He's content. Content to bask in their lazy mornings and easy nights.
It's not something he's ever felt with anyone else.
She's completely naked wiping down the shower, breasts bobbing as she reaches for the top tiles; he's brushing his teeth with a towel slung over his hips and they're talking about which files he needs for the deposition today, making jabs at opposing counsel while he laughs around a mouthful of toothpaste.
And it's so...natural. Like they've been doing this for years.
(Even the naked part.)
He's struck, sometimes, how easily they fell into their routines as a couple. How quickly the barriers of privacy were stripped, replaced by a pleasant familiarity and mundanity.
Donna hangs the towel, bumps her hip playfully into his and kisses the corner of his wet mouth. "Minty."
"Thank you." He spits.
"Hand me my toothbrush?"
He complies, squirts a generous amount of toothpaste for her before shifting to the toilet to relieve his bladder, towel dropping unceremoniously to the floor.
Donna doesn't even blink.
It was another thing that shocked him, at first — one morning he was shaving and the next thing he knew, Donna had plopped herself down on the toilet and started to pee.
He hastily shouted an apology and turned away. She rolled her eyes, told him to grow up and that he'd missed a spot near his chin.
"I promised Rach I'd get lunch with her today," Donna informs him after he flushes.
"What am I supposed to do?" he jokes, dropping a kiss on her shoulder as he washes his hands.
"Take me to breakfast." Her grin is infectious.
"Breakfast in bed?" he replies, feeling cheeky.
Her bare arms wrap around his neck, warm lips meeting his in a chaste kiss. "What are we having?"
And, yeah — it's still sometimes about the sex.
"You."
