Playbill
My dear Nathalie, I couldn't just let your special day go without writing something and so, this happened. Happy Birthday, my dear friend-sister. Thanks for being my star. I hope you enjoy this.
And once again, humongous thanks to my other friend-sister, Nanna for looking over this even with the late hour. You're the absolute best.
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Ever since she and Harvey had gotten together, Donna has found herself constantly surprised at how much she still has to learn about the man she's set to spend forever with. Despite being the one who ran his life, these past few weeks have been a series of revelations and discoveries.
But nothing prepares her for the one she makes on an evening when they had both surprisingly been able to get out early. They'd high-tailed it out of the firm, hand-in-hand, making their way to Harvey's apartment. They'd spent the first few hours tangled in each other, before heading out to his kitchen, Donna dressed in his shirt, and Harvey in a soft cotton shirt and boxers.
After pouring out two glasses of red, she hops onto one of his stools to revel - as she often did these days - in the sight of her man cooking dinner for them. She watches as Harvey set about putting together the ingredients for his mother's famous pasta bolognese.
Moments like these are Donna's favorites, because they fill these moments by simply talking about nothing and everything. Other times, she is content to simply watch in silence.
And still other times, she sets about to be as distracting as she could be, and succeeds. She's even overheard Harvey tell Mike that he'd burned more food in the past few weeks than he ever had before.
When she'd first gotten to know him, Harvey had been - understandably - reticent about his childhood, his memories largely tied to Lily's infidelity and Gordon's obliviousness. But, with his mind now free from the burden of his sadness, the happier memories had now bubbled to the surface, along with everything else that he hadn't previously been able to access: including the way he felt about her.
Harvey has just begun telling her about the first time his parents had left him by himself in the house. Donna finds herself soaking in the way his face lights up, his grin taking over his entire face as he recounts the way he and his friend from class had used the time to prank-call the neighbor who lived directly opposite to them.
However, just as he's about to tell her about the moment the neighbor had figured them out, her phone rings. Harvey gives her a look over his shoulder, his brown eyes full of mirth, while Donna looks sheepishly between him and the phone.
"Sorry," she says, setting her glass down. "I dunno why I keep forgetting to turn it off. It's Louis."
He chuckles and squeezes her arm. "It's alright. See what he wants."
"Louis," she says, as she stands up, moving towards Harvey's desk. "Harvey and I got out early for a reason. What is it?"
She huffs as Louis tells her about something that Faye was demanding, and plops herself wearily into Harvey's chair.
"Hold on," she says. "I need to write this down."
She quickly finds a pen, but no notepaper.
"Harvey," she says. "Do you have any notepaper around here?"
"Drawer," he says absently, his mind on the sauce in front of him.
"Thanks," she slides the drawer open and what she sees makes her nearly drop her phone, and she lets out a gasp. "Louis, I'm gonna have to call you back."
The sound makes Harvey turn his head, and his eyes widen as he moves towards her, as realization dawns on his own face.
"Donna," he starts. "I can explain."
She doesn't respond but merely continues to stare wordlessly at the contents of the drawer, before reaching her hand in and pulling them out.
Playbills. A whole stack of them.
Of every play she'd ever been in.
All of them.
She swallows around the lump in her throat and looks up at him, his caught expression frozen on his face, while his gaze catches hers.
"Harvey… you've been to all of them?"
Her voice spurs him to move forward, as he comes to kneel in front of her.
"Yes," he says, quietly.
"All of them?" she asks, again, her mind still catching up.
"All of them," he says, his hand coming to rest on hers.
She swallows again and starts flipping through them.
Macbeth. As You Like It. Much Ado About Nothing. A Christmas Carol. Arms and the Man.
She stops scanning them, because there's no need. Every single one she's ever been in. It's all there.
"Why did you never tell me?" she asks, blinking through a curtain of tears as she drops the playbills on the desk and reaches for his hand.
He shrugs, his gaze dropping to their joined hands. "I didn't know if I could."
"What do you mean?" she squeezes his hand, to get him to look at her.
Harvey chuffs out a sigh, and stands up, and leans on his desk, his hand not leaving hers.
"When you first came to work for me, I was captivated by you. I still am," he adds hastily when he sees her raised eyebrows. "And, so when you'd made it clear that your position was only ever going to be a transitional one, because your true goal was the stage, I was curious. So, when you came in to tell me that you needed the time off, I decided to check it out."
"Oh, yeah," Donna says, "I was…"
"Desdemona," Harvey says, smiling again at her gobsmacked expression, before continuing. "The funny thing is I thought it'd just be a one-off. But then, when I saw you on that stage, I was mesmerized. Even, if I couldn't quite follow everything that was happening, I could tell that you were born to do it."
"But, why didn't you tell me you were there?"
Harvey's expression goes distant as he thinks, "At first, I guess, I was going to. But, I just couldn't find the time and maybe, a part of me was just too…"
"Shy?" she asks, a small smile raising her lips.
"Scared," he says. "Because that night, I went home with my heart and mind doing battle like they've never done before."
"What do you mean?"
"On one side, I was already starting to realize just how much you made my life better, easier, even. So the idea that somewhere down the line, the stage would eventually take you away from me was terrifying. It was easier for me not to acknowledge that, than to be faced with the thought of losing you."
Donna stands up then, stepping closer to him to wrap her arms around his waist, and Harvey pulls her closer, his gratitude clear on his face. "Go on," she says, gently.
"On the other side, my heart was upping its own stake in the game. I was already falling in love with you, even if I didn't realize it. And admitting that I'd been at your play, after I'd pretty much given you the impression that I wasn't truly interested in…"
"All this artsy stuff," she says, imitating the dismissive way he'd said it, flapping her hand for emphasis.
"That," he says rolling his eyes. "The point is, I was just too scared to acknowledge to both of us that I was more than interested in you, without blurring the lines and breaking your rule."
She nods, her arms tightening around his waist as she reaches up to kiss him, "I get it. But, you know, you'd never have lost me, right? Because, Harvey, I was falling in love with you, too. And, whether I knew it or not, it led me to continue to want to stay. With you. Not to mention, I loved what I did. What we did, together."
"I love you so much," he says, leaning down to kiss her again.
"So, you continued to go to all of them?"
"I did," he says. "Just because I couldn't tell you how I felt, it didn't mean I didn't give into it every now and then. Seeing you in your element on the stage was one of those ways. It was the one time I could let myself simply watch you and love you."
"Harvey…"
"One time," he says, and Donna sees his neck go red even in the dim light of his fireplace. "I was seated next to this old dear, who probably sensed my real feelings then and asked me if you were mine."
"You said yes," Donna guesses, her face splitting into a grin which she presses into his lips. "I still can't believe you've been to them all, Harvey. I thought it was just…"
"The Merchant of Venice. You were Portia."
"OK, who are you?"
He laughs. "I'm a Donna fan, is who I am."
"I love you," she says, her voice choking again, as the memories of that night come flooding back. "And that night made me realize that those feelings were never going away. You were so… different that night. It made me figure out that you were capable of being the most romantic man a woman could have. And I wished so much that you were mine, that night."
"I wished that too," Harvey says, gently.
"But, then it made me wonder why you just never seemed to do that with the others you were with."
"Because, you're different," he reminds her, his hand coming up to stroke her cheek. "With you, it just happens. Making you happy always made me happy."
And that does it for her, as she pushes her lips firmly against his, trying to pour everything into the kiss. "You've always made me happy, Harvey. Even when you weren't trying. I'm just sorry it took me just as long to realize it."
"Ditto," he says, leaning in again to pick up their kiss.
Donna feels him shift, as he takes her bottom lip into his mouth, sucking it gently before his tongue swiped against it, soothing it. She tightens her grip on his neck, as she feels Harvey's tongue slip into her mouth, while one of his hands slides down from her waist to gently cup her bottom, his fingertips brushing against the bare skin just under the hem of his shirt, lifting her further into the kiss.
A whimper escapes her as she feels her front brush against his, and she hears him groan as she pushes her hips firmly against his. Harvey's knees bend as he lowers himself slightly over his desk, and she steps between his legs, never once breaking their kiss. His hand then slips under his shirt, trailing over the back of her thighs before cupping her bottom, while his other hand makes short work of the buttons on her shirt.
Her hands have barely left his shoulders to shake the shirt off, before Harvey pulls her into him again, his mouth reaching for the spot just under her ear. His lips trail a blazing path down her chest over her left breast. His other hand comes up to cup her right breast, his thumb rolling the hardened peak rhythmically in tune with what his tongue is doing to the other.
Soon after, he switches, setting the same level of attention to them as before. Donna curls her hands into his hair, as he sucks and licks over her nipple, before moving further down. She jerks when his tongue dips into her belly button, her fingers tightening over his scalp.
Unwilling to stay idle, Donna pushes her hands down his back, her hands coming to grip the hem of his shirt and she brings it up with her, her fingertips scratching gently into the skin of his back. Harvey helps her take his shirt off, before standing up, and both their hands reach for his boxers, sliding them down before he kicks them off.
Donna brings him down for another kiss. "Now, Harvey. I want you, now."
Harvey obliges, as his arms go back around her, this time lifting her fully off her feet. Donna takes her cue and wraps her legs around his waist, stabilizing both of them, before he turns around to set her on his desk.
Donna feels her bottom brush against the stack of playbills, and when Harvey leans over her, she feels them scatter under her. She lets out a low moan when she feels his arousal brush against her still sensitized center, before Harvey's fingers slip between them, gently testing her for readiness. She presses a kiss against his neck, nodding gently to confirm what he needs, and then he pushes - slowly, gently, fully - into her, filling her to the hilt.
And then, she's lost.
They both are, as they begin the age-old dance that they've perfected over the past few months. A dance that they'd never really forgotten the steps to, but had tried hard to replicate with others, only to fall short by a lot.
Not for the first time that night, Donna finds herself soaring as Harvey continues to move inside her, his pace quick but steady and before long, he follows, her name on his lips mingling with his name on hers.
And, as she feels his love flood her insides, she finds herself flying again. Harvey soothes her through it, his thumb brushing against the curve of her waist, while he gently lays his lips over hers. Once she's come down, he trails his lips to the crook of her neck, and they lay there for a while, still connected and content to simply be in each other's arms, despite the uncomfortable surface.
Donna closes her eyes, and as she does, her mind fills with an image of herself on the stage and Harvey as the lone audience member watching her, as she takes a bow. At that she feels the tears slip out again, and she presses a grateful kiss into his neck.
"Thank you," she says, moving her lips to his ear. "For being my fan."
She feels his smile against her cheek before he raises his head to look at her, "And thank you for being mine."
I'm a Harvey fan.
Mike must have told him, she realizes.
He kisses her again, and then gently slips out of her before collapsing into the chair behind him, bringing her with him. As she settles against him, Donna lets out a deep breath.
"So," she says. "Now that I know about this." She indicates the scattered playbills, "Will you be coming with me for the next one?"
"Yes," he says, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "And this time when Mrs. Weston asks me about you, I'll be telling her the truth."
"Mrs. Weston?"
He goes red again, "The old dear I mentioned before. We've kind of become friends."
Donna lets out a loud laugh, "How long have you been telling her we're together?"
"How long do you think?"
"Twelve years," they say in unison, and Donna laughs again, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
She's about to settle back into his arms when a distinct smell reaches her nose.
"Uh, Harvey…"
His eyes shift to the kitchen and sure enough.
"Oh, shit," he says, jumping out of his chair and rushes towards the kitchen, still buck naked. "Not again!"
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Author's notes: I hope you enjoyed this. Please feel free to let me know what you all think.
