A/N: These are a few of my ideas of how Donna and Harvey's life in Seattle might go. I was driven to write this by the song "Wide Open" from the Nashville soundtrack, which doesn't really relate to them in any way at all, haha, but it gave me a certain feeling that I tried to replicate here. Some of this, particularly the part about Ray and the car club, was inspired by another fic I read and sadly did not write down to credit properly, if you know where it's from, please let me know! Hope you like it :)
She's sitting on his bed when he comes in, almost an hour after she got home. She hears him leave his briefcase on the counter, drop his keys next to it. Her stomach is fluttery and she watches him from afar as he makes his way towards the bedroom.
The second he steps inside and looks at her, his lips press together, his shoulders fall and his eyes start to water. She understands the feeling, having teared up herself on Louis' shoulder when they said goodbye in the lobby.
He's frozen in place, kind of grimacing, kind of smiling, kind of frowning, concentrating on not letting the tears fall. Like he's sad but feeling silly about it. She's a little more liberal with displays of emotion, unbothered by her eyes welling up at the mere sight of him.
"I know," she says simply, a little sob escaping along with a little laugh. He blinks repeatedly and shrugs helplessly and it happens. In a second she's up and striding towards him. He folds himself around her the exact moment the tears start streaming, shaking against her frame.
She holds him tight and lets herself cry along, heart overflowing with sympathy. It's suffocating and bittersweet and sorrowful; it's a happy grief, but it's grief nonetheless. She smiles when she feels him bury his nose against the crook of her neck, lifts her hand to his head and caresses his hair.
"Sorry. I don't even know why I'm crying," he sniffles and mumbles against her, letting out a short self-conscious chuckle.
"We're crying because this is all we've known and loved for the past fifteen years," she explains softly and gives him a kiss on the cheek, "It makes sense."
"I wanna do this, I know I do," he continues, seemingly calmer, "It was just hard to remember that tonight."
"I know," she whispers, "It's the same for me." He pulls slightly back, brushing his lips softly against her jaw along the way, and rests his forehead against hers. They're silent for a moment, just breathing each other in and feeling their feelings.
Eventually she opens her eyes and frames his jaw with her hands, "I'm proud of us, though. That we're actually doing this."
He nods, looks down then back into her eyes, "Yeah, it's definitely something to be proud of."
They kiss softly and she helps him undress and change into his pajamas. They fall asleep hugging each other, a sense of certainty that everything is going to be okay mixing with nostalgia for New York inside her chest.
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They give themselves a month to say goodbye to their friends, the firm and the city, which feels like long enough to tackle everything but still short enough that they won't bail. That day was officially their last one at work, but Donna agreed to help look for her replacement - they all want a non-lawyer as COO now, thanks to her legacy - and Harvey asked to notify all his clients personally and ease the transition to Alex or Samantha.
They split their days between the work for the firm, looking for places in Seattle and spending as much time as possible with Lucy. Donna goes over almost every day, picking up the slack so Sheila can have a moment for herself. Harvey often picks her up with gifts for their goddaughter or takeout dinner for Louis and Sheila. For someone who has felt annoyed by almost every baby he has ever seen, Harvey looks spectacularly smitten by the little girl.
The month runs out and they have a few house and condo options lined up to visit, everything is straightened out at work both there and in Seattle and all goodbyes have been said. They take the end of the last week to enjoy a last meal at their favorite restaurants and finish packing up their places.
Surprisingly, Harvey, Mr. I-Hate-Change himself, seems to get over the loss of his condo fairly easily. It's actually Donna who's having a hard time letting go.
She packs a lot more stuff because suddenly everything feels indispensable and irreplaceable, even though she's pretty sure they have cutlery in Seattle. Even the least relevant things take hours to sort through and put away, what with her stopping to admire every last thing she owns. It's like everything acquired deep emotional meaning overnight, even the things she didn't even like that much.
She ends up sleeping at her place the whole week, some nights even without Harvey, and hers is the last place in New York that they visit. Harvey takes her hand and squeezes it meaningfully, then wraps an arm around her shoulders as they stare into the empty space that used to be her loft. The movers have taken the last boxes and now it's just them, her purse and the fixtures.
It's weird, seeing the remnants of a life - a life she loved. The walls hold memories that cling to her skin and pull her in. Out of all her favorite things in this city, this apartment was very high on the list. It's been her home, the place she has repeatedly turned to in times of unrest, heartbreak, relaxation. She's held dinner parties and cried herself to sleep here. She first learned Harvey loved her right in this living room.
There's a lump in her throat she can't seem to lose and maybe he can see it, because he kisses her temple and holds her closer.
"Time to go," he announces softly and she nods, not trusting herself to say anything without ending up in tears. She takes her bag, locks her front door for the last time and follows him out of the building.
He has a car waiting to take them to the airport - Ray's already been passed on to Samantha, along with Harvey's car club membership.
The ride to JFK is relatively silent. It's a nice autumn day out and their flight is late enough that they catch the beginning of the sunset on the way over. Donna keeps their fingers linked, but she's content to just be quiet and enjoy the final glimpses of the city she's called home for most of her life. She knows she's being dramatic and that they'll be back very soon for New Year's - they agreed to spend Christmas with Marcus in Boston - but it still feels irrevocable, like she's leaving a part of herself here.
They spend the whole flight close together, his arm around her or her head on his shoulder, thinking about what's to come and what's been left behind.
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They have their things delivered to a storage unit because they wanted the chance to see housing options in person first before having to rush to move in. They get an Airbnb for two weeks, just in case.
Harvey's not often jet lagged, but the time zone difference coupled with the usual stress of flying and the unusual stress of moving knock him out. When they get to the apartment, all he can manage is brushing his teeth and collapsing onto the bed.
Donna joins him a few moments later and he drifts back to conscience by the gentle dip of the mattress. "Sorry," she whispers, but he just takes her hand and laces their fingers together, looking at her through his drooping eyelids.
"Thanks for doing this with me," he mutters, and though he's half-asleep he means it so much, stroking her knuckles as their joint hands lay between them.
"Moving across the country?" she jokes, her Donna face in place.
He shakes his head, feeling like the moment requires honesty. "Life," he replies simply and gets a huge sense of satisfaction from the way her face softens and she's left speechless, looking at him like she's trying to figure out how to respond.
She settles for a palm on his cheek, fingers gentle as they go back and forth. She leans in, lays a long, chaste kiss on his lips, holds him close for a solid moment. Then she looks deep into his eyes, brushes their noses together. The surge of affection he feels is surreal to him; not long ago he thought he wasn't even wired to feel things like this.
She pulls back, turns off the bedside lamp and resettles. He snuggles closer and lets his eyes close as Donna holds his hand in their new bed in their new city.
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They use their first days in Seattle, a weekend, to visit a couple of condos and go on a reconnaissance tour. Mike and Rachel gave them some helpful pointers for the more urgent needs - a hospital covered by their insurance, cheap supermarkets and good pharmacies. They live slightly towards the suburbs, while Donna and Harvey are staying, and intend to continue, in the city. The tips check out, but they're both eager to start making their own way around.
They see a lot of Asian food and make a point of visiting the Space Needle so they don't have to do it again.
Harvey spends the whole day antsy and impatient. It feels like he's searching for something but he doesn't know what it is. The weather is fine and the city is lively and they have a pretty decent lunch. Still, he feels a confusing mix of eagerness to go back to their place and fixation on finding the best restaurants, the best stores, the best places to see.
Donna seems to notice but apparently decides not to push, perhaps feeling weird herself, because she's unusually quiet and their interactions feel a little cushioned, like they're walking on eggshells. He hates every second of it and suggests they call it a day and just go back to watch a movie or something. She agrees promptly and falls asleep on the couch next to him around the second third of We're The Millers.
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The first day at work starts exponentially better. They hadn't seen Mike and Rachel yet, since their friends had wanted to give them space to settle in first. They greet them at the door and she literally bursts into tears at the sight of her best friend. She's hugging Rachel and Harvey's hugging Mike and her heart feels so full it might just burst.
The whirlwind of emotions of the past few days leaves her a little off-kilter, tearing up unexpectedly throughout her entire first day. She's really, really happy to be with Mike and Rachel again, but everything feels wrong.
The sun shines through her windows in such an angle that she can see her reflection on her computer screen and it distracts her. Her pen holder is just a little too small and she can't fit all of her pens in it. The keyboard is smaller than her old one and her fingers keep missing the keys or bumping into each other. The coffee machine takes forever.
Rationally, she knows it's all irrelevant, that she'll get used to it soon and it's probably only annoying her so much because she's a little homesick. But hour after hour new things come up to bug her.
It doesn't help that Harvey seems to be acing this. He seems at ease, light, probably just happy from being able to work with Mike again. She texts him about the coffee and asks about the keyboard when she stops by to say hi and literally none of the things that are bothering her seem to have even been noticed by him.
To top it all off, because Murphy's law is alive and kicking, they go out for lunch and Harvey's order is infinitely better than hers.
As soon as she goes back to the office she locks herself in one of the bathroom booths and props her elbows on her knees and her head on her palms, heaving out a heavy sigh.
None of this is an actual problem, she tells herself, and it'll all get better soon. She's obviously being dramatic. It's just... frustrating.
Harvey wanted to leave the firm, but she was the one to suggest they move to Seattle. She's the one who's flexible and versatile and good with changes. And yet, she's the only one who seems to be crying out of nowhere and getting put off by stationery. It seems terribly unfair that he's taking this so well.
She is objectively happy for him. She knows she is, she's smiled every time she's seen him so in his element today. And she would have felt awful if he'd been suffering because of her suggestion to move away.
She guesses a part of her just wishes she had someone who felt as weird about everything as her.
She says something to that effect after dinner, when they're on the couch and he's reading some files.
He ponders her question for a moment. "Not weird so much as... different," he frowns a little. "It's definitely nothing like our lives in New York and it'll take some adjustment". She nods, although her agreement is purely theoretical.
"Are you having second thoughts about this?" he asks cautiously. He sounds unsure and a little sad and she hates herself for making him feel this way. Still, he was the one who suggested they should be more open with each other, so she takes a breath.
"I can't tell just yet." She looks down and shrugs, "I guess I just miss home."
"Babe," he cocks his head and grimaces sympathetically, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into him. She lets herself be tucked against his chest and sighs, at least content from their proximity.
"We don't have to stay here if you don't want to," he says, more lightly this time, like he really means it.
She shakes her head, "I don't think I'm there yet, it's just being harder than I thought. I think I just need some time. And this," she wraps her arms around his torso and snuggles closer, making him chuckle fondly. His other arm encases her as well and they stay like that, in silence.
"I love you," he reminds her softly.
She kisses his t-shirt-clad chest, "I know." Because she does, so many years of wondering and doubting and now she feels it fiercely every time he touches her. "I love you too," she adds in a whisper.
"I know you do," she can hear the smile in his voice, the tenderness.
She's not having the easiest time and maybe she never will here. But having him makes all the difference in the world.
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They find an amazing loft in Upper Queen Anne. The neighborhood seems busy and upbeat, with trendy restaurants and cool bars. Most buildings are 19th century brownstones that have been revitalized. Theirs is almost right on top of the hill, which means they can see the waterfront from their living room, something neither had in New York and both find they enjoy. Plus, it's close enough to downtown and to the office.
They're able to move in the following weekend and spend both days unboxing and organizing everything.
He didn't decorate his last condo, opted for an architect because he couldn't be bothered, but something about building his new home with Donna feels wholesome and exciting.
He finds he cares about every detail, which pictures to put up, how to place the rug, whether they should go for patterns or neutrals. Donna obviously has a great eye, but his taste is a little more minimalist than hers. They manage to compromise, opting for soothing tones and texture, with darker items sprinkled here and there and statement pieces. And his mother's painting on the wall.
They make a few shopping trips and finish the whole loft remarkably quickly and efficiently, like everything they do.
At first it's weird. He takes some time getting used to the new place and keeps doing things like hitting his head on the kitchen cabinet, now slightly lower than his previous one used to be, and constantly forgetting which drawer he put his pocket squares in. He often mistakenly opens Donna's side of the closet - she had a few things back at his old place but never an actual section of his wardrobe.
He has to flip every light switch in the place before he gets it right, and ten minutes later he's forgotten which was the right one and has to flip them all again to turn the lights back off. The mattress is not the same and he tosses and turns the entire first nights.
Still, over time he loses his old mannerisms, the momentary struggle to recognize his surroundings fades away, and he is left with the realization that Donna and him are now truly domestic in the best of ways.
From splitting chores to picking movies, in their coordinated choreography for getting ready in the mornings, they are articulated and aligned and in sync. It's like the partnership he has always known them to have now has a physical embodiment. They have reached a new level of intimacy and he never thought he'd find that exciting but he does.
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It takes her almost six months.
The first time she feels at home in Seattle is silly, nothing to do with work or home or even her friends or Harvey. The very first time she feels like she truly belongs, like she likes this city and it likes her back, like this might actually be somewhere she can be happy, is at a café.
Harvey and she had very particular taste for coffee and only the café around the corner from the old firm made it exactly how they liked it.
So it was tough, looking for a new venue. They searched close to their loft and close to work and it was fine but never just right. The habit of picking up a (or, when called for, many) coffee every morning is ingrained in them after years of a well-honored tradition and it was frankly eating at her that they couldn't find a good enough replacement.
It made Seattle seem strikingly lesser-than, and it made her feel picky and snobbish even though nobody drinks regular coffee this day and age. Harvey was also visibly annoyed by this, though maybe his annoyance ran more shallowly than hers given her generalized misgivings with the whole move.
They only started really looking once they moved into their loft, still unfamiliar with the city and afraid of getting attached to a place they wouldn't be able to frequent afterwards.
After that came a series of misses. Starbucks and a local chain, Tully's Coffee, were quickly dismissed. They tried everything: gourmet spots, street vendors, shops on the street or in commercial centers and the overpriced place in the lobby of their office. They expanded their usual proximity range and even asked their doorman for suggestions.
Until one day she's buying bread at a bakery about two blocks south of their place and she notices the bookstore next to it has a tiny sign on the door announcing there is a coffee shop inside. She thinks it might be one of those simple over-the-counter spots but decides to try anyway.
The place is actually beautiful, cozy and bright, perfect for reading all afternoon. The assortment of coffees isn't very exotic, but they do serve both hers and Harvey's preferences. The drink is ideally balanced, not too sweet nor too milky, the right amount of vanilla to be noticeable but not too strong on the tongue.
She goes home and tells Harvey and makes him come back with her right away. Unsurprisingly, he loves it too.
They add the stop to their morning itinerary, leaving ten minutes earlier to be able to make it to the office on time. It's in the opposite direction but it's worth it.
She starts sporadically, taking time to adjust both her routine and her budget - not that coffee is going to run her into the red, but it had been removed from their fixed expenses since they weren't getting it regularly anymore.
She notices the place is crowded every day, not enough to be a problem but enough to prove it's not such a hole in the wall as she initially thought. The baristas are not very engaging but they don't act like the supreme authorities on coffee either, which is good enough for her.
Harvey doesn't go with her at first, asking her to get his order instead. She throws a quip about not being his secretary and he offers they alternate instead, each getting the other's order every other day. They start like that, but she finds it's a pleasant start to her day, walking all the way there, and she prefers to have a unified routine.
And so she starts going daily, around the same time. She starts noticing the same baristas and some familiar customers.
One day Todd the cashier asks her if she wants her usual and guesses her name.
It throws her off, makes her pause. She stutters. Says her order anyway. "Yeah, I remember," the guy nods and grins. An uncontrollable smile spreads and she feels like a schoolgirl with a crush.
"Yes, Todd, the usual," she answers, sliding a couple of bills into the tip jar. Her order is personalized and the place isn't huge and she's been coming almost every day for a month. It shouldn't be that unexpected. And yet it's the first telling sign that she's begun to integrate, that Seattle and she are making an exchange and it isn't all one-sided. She's getting to know the city, but the city's getting to know her too.
And Donna's used to connections. She's used to being known, she likes to go places where people remember her style or her order. She was friends with every single person that provided any regular service to her, from the hot-dog stand to Harvey's tailor. And she hadn't realized it, but maybe that was a part of what was missing here, this network of people who made her feel like she belonged.
She decides Todd the cashier is as good a starting point as any.
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Donna gets home an hour later than him one day. She seems nervous, which is rare for her. She feigns normality by asking about his day even though they had seen each other two hours ago. He lets her do her thing, mill about in the kitchen, rearrange the magazines. He knows she'll speak up eventually.
"I'm thinking about switching jobs," she blurts out between two bites of her pasta. That does give him pause.
"Why?" he frowns, because he genuinely doesn't get it.
"Because..." she sets her fork down and clasps her hands on the table, "I really miss working at a bigger firm. Working with just ten other people is driving me crazy, no matter how much I love some of them."
Harvey's instant reaction is the familiar insecurity, the gripping fear of not being able to function without her. He keeps himself from saying anything, knows it's all in his head, but it's still there. She must notice it, though, because her hand reaches out to cover his on the table.
"It's great being able to see Mike and Rach every day again, and you know how much I love working with you, but I don't think this job is the right fit for me. I think I need something more like we used to have. Closer to home," she bites the inside of her lower lip and regards him expectantly.
"But you're doing exactly the same things as you used to," he argues, unconvinced.
"I know, but it's just not the same," she shrugs helplessly, "I guess in the end this isn't a change I'm willing to make."
Harvey looks down at his plate. This is an unexpected turn of events. He hasn't worked in a different place as Donna ever since they met over sixteen years ago. Even when she was fired for the memo, that only lasted a month and he always knew he'd get her back. But this is different. This feels permanent.
Then a thought nags at him.
"But it's been seven months. Have you felt this way since the start?" he looks back up at her, still sporting his frown.
"Kind of," she tilts her head in consideration. "You love it so much, I thought I might, too, if I just gave it enough time. But... I don't," she finishes and presses her lips together.
"Donna, I want you to work wherever the hell you want. That's exactly why my one condition for moving here was that we'd both be doing it of our own accord," he retorts finally, a little put off by her admission. He held her back for so long before, and apparently he'd been doing that again for seven months without even knowing.
"And we did!" her eyebrows shoot up and her hand flies to his again, "I didn't do any of this because of you. I thought it was what I wanted! But now it's time for something new." Donna shrugs one shoulder and waits for his reaction.
He remains skeptical, but he also trusts her judgment more than anyone else's. Besides, he's changed; they both have. He's no longer dependent on her, and she no longer acts like she has to shield him from everything.
He turns his hand on the table and laces their fingers, "Then I can't wait to see where you'll work next." Her eyes brighten and she squeezes his hand.
It's not easy at first - Donna was tied to his work before she was tied to anything else. No matter how much she's outgrown her secretarial post, Harvey has never not thought of Donna when he thought of his job, his whole career.
But he realizes, two weeks later - a timeline he's actually very proud of - that maybe what scared him the most about her not working with him was that he used to feel like that was the only way he could make sure she'd stay close to him.
Now that's not the case anymore. She keeps coming home every night, they have more subjects to cover, which is always a welcome thing when you've seen someone practically every day of your life for over sixteen years.
Most importantly she's happy. She joins a consulting firm for corporate restructuring and it's so perfect for her it's ridiculous. She tells him excitedly about the family company that grew 40% more than expected after just one quarter, and about the fighting partners they helped recompose. It's a beautiful thing, watching her thrive and have space to do her thing. He wishes, like with so many other things when it comes to her, that he had realized sooner how much better things go when he isn't trying to control everything.
One night they're lying in bed and she's telling him a funny story about a co-worker, someone she dubs as "their Norma". He watches her talk and understands. Donna doesn't need to work with him. He gets her for everything else.
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On their one-year anniversary, as they're having wine out on their balcony, Donna decides she wants to have a proper wedding. They're too far into their relationship - and their own lives, really - to care too much about formalities, and they both consider themselves very much married. But, at the end of the day, they did get married in front of about five friends and two hundred and twenty of Louis and Sheila's guests, who had absolutely no idea who they were.
And she doesn't care for a big white wedding, but she still wants something that's theirs. A little bit to her surprise, Harvey smiles instantly at her suggestion, not hesitant at all. "What?" he says when she eyes him suspiciously, "I'll marry you how many times you want."
She grins and shakes her head, "Harvey Specter, who would've thought."
He takes a sip of his wine and looks down at it with a mellow smile. "No one. Least of all me."
She gets up and kisses him, and figures they can discuss further wedding details some other time.
They decide to hold it in New York and, because Donna finds a half-sleeved dress she absolutely loves, in the fall. Lucy is the obvious choice for flower girl, even though her toddler aptitude for getting distracted could be a problem. Rachel almost kills them for making her be a pregnant maid of honor. They pick this beautiful rooftop-glass-gazebo kind of place, cover it in subtle white and gold décor and have, frankly, the most beautiful and tasteful wedding Donna has ever seen, even if it's small and intimate.
She cries all over again, and so does Harvey.
They're dancing and he's running his palms up and down her sides, feeling the pearls that pepper the entire dress. "Your last wedding dress was beautiful, but I've always loved you in white," he murmurs in her ear. She knows anyone would be super lucky to have her around, but sometimes moments like this happen and show her that she struck gold with him, too.
The party lasts longer than anticipated and they have to send someone to buy more champagne and everything is just perfect. Her family's there, and so is his. Jessica manages to come, and a few friends of his from college, and her drama club group. They'll both comment later that they have never felt more loved.
Something they didn't have the first time around, and that Donna is pretty excited about, is a "proper" wedding night. They had rushed out of Louis'/their wedding to meet Lucy and check in on Sheila, and after the whirlwind of the day, they went to his place and fell asleep almost instantly.
This time she makes plans.
They have a fancy hotel room. She has the perfect lingerie that's right on the line between sexy and raunchy. He has no idea what's coming his way.
When she steps out of the bathroom, after hanging her dress behind the door and prepping a bit, his jaw actually drops at the white lace. "Holy shit," he says almost involuntarily.
She smirks. "Now, that's exactly the kind of reaction I was going for." He pulls her in and it's familiar and thrilling and she feels revered.
Sex with Harvey feels different. That was a suspicion she'd held since The Other Time, which was later confirmed when he came knocking barely two years ago.
He knows where to touch and how to push and he knows every last thing she likes even though each time goes a little differently, is a little new.
She used to think it was due to expertise, or even their shared knowledge of each other, but now she knows, as ridiculously corny as it sounds, it's the feelings. As much of a romanticized cliché as it makes her, she is fully certain she has never loved anyone as much as she loves Harvey.
And that's what makes it so special, all the love that coats everything they do. It's the craziest thing, how she can literally feel it thrumming in his veins, hot against her skin when he kisses it, digging into her flesh between his fingers. It's not just the pleasure, it's the love, and she doesn't know why it makes a difference but it does make it, all of it.
Tonight they are once again married, this time in front of everybody they love and care about the most. They've shared a life together for over a year, on top of the previous fifteen, and it's acutely noticeable in the press of their bodies against each other, the tangling of their breaths, the harmony of their grins and chuckles.
They are formidable individually, unstoppable together, but like this... Like this, she knows, they are perfect.
She whispers as much, right as his thrust makes her back arch up, her head bury itself into the pillow, her hands move languidly up his back, gripping hard.
He smiles against her clavicle and, though no words come out, she knows he agrees.
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In the end, he'll realize it's not the fulfilling job, or being close to Mike and Rachel again, or leading a calmer life in a gentler city.
He'll feel full, and happy, and whole, and home. And he'll know that, back right before she left him, he was spectacularly wrong, at the same time as he was completely right.
He was wrong, because he had no idea what he was missing out on by not kissing her and not sleeping next to her all those years.
But he was also so right, because Harvey knew, even then, that having Donna truly does feel like having everything.
