12. Shades of Grey

AN: rated M

Harvey hovers his card over the contactless reader, pulling his coffee away from the vending cart to take a sip of the strong, bitter taste. It jolts him further into the land of the living—the hour early compared to his later arrival the day prior. Seeing Donna had been worth the time he needs to make up, but he'd had a sleepless night going over everything she'd said, along with the things she didn't say—thoughts that had been carefully guarded by her silence, the long stretches riddling him with guilt. He'd hurt her. Worse than he's ever done in the past, because she's never been afraid to tell him what she thinks before. They're damaged, in a way that winds painfully in his chest, but he breathes out the feeling with a sigh, winding his wallet into his back pocket. Damaged doesn't mean there isn't hope—just that he shouldn't run in like a bull in a china shop trying to fix everything.

Unfortunately, patience has never been one of his strongest suits, which is why when a pair of grey steely eyes meet him across the snow, he's in no mood to engage the unfamiliar face. The older man, however, clearly has other ideas, and Harvey squares his shoulders as the suited figure steps into his path.

"Excuse me, Mr. Specter?"

"You obviously know the answer," he grumbles into his coffee.

"Ted Pullman." The partner introduces himself, extending his hand, but the gesture is met with a frosty reception, causing him to lower it again. "I was after a moment of your time."

"Is your lawyer around?" Harvey quips dryly, surprised and wary over why the senior businessman is reaching out just days after he'd approached the company's HR department.

"I'm hoping we can mitigate the need for one," Ted states candidly. "If you're willing to hear what I have to say."

Harvey blows out a breath, not trusting the situation one damn bit. A cloak and dagger routine before his second cup of coffee never ends in anything except trouble, but this clearly involves Donna, so he directs the man to the side of the courtyard with a sharp nod.

Ted steers them through the bustle of morning workers, stopping to lean against the retaining wall dividing off the square, his thick woolen coat protecting him from the film of snow. He's always hated the winter months, and the past few have brought nothing but problems, an inconvenience he's hoping they can rectify with a deal. "I'd like to negotiate Ms. Paulsen's return to S&P."

The statement presents like a Trojan Horse, full of false pretenses, and Harvey firms his jaw. "Why don't you give Donna her job back and fire your asshole son, how's that for negotiating?"

The brazen attitude doesn't phase the partner. He'd expected as much from the hot-headed lawyer, the man's reputation preceding him. He's had to put up with allegations against his son multiple times over the years, most of which usually go away with the right amount of money as incentive. True or false, he'd never bothered getting involved beyond opening his wallet, but Harvey Specter isn't a name that should be treated with indifference, and—he's starting to realize—neither is Donna Paulsen's.

From the day she started at S&P, he's held her in high regard, but his concerns aren't about any one individual. He's loyal to his company, and with the economy on a downturn, he can't afford to have the business fall under public scrutiny. "Ms. Paulsen can start back effective immediately, and my son will give her a formal apology, acknowledging he acted inappropriately, with the assurance the behaviour won't happen again."

Harvey scoffs under his breath. The solution is a glorified reprimand between a disapproving father and an entitled prick of a son. But even so, from everything Donna's told him about Collin, and after meeting the man himself, he can't see the director cowering just because daddy instructs him to. "Bullshit he'll agree to that."

"I assure you, he will." There isn't a waiver of hesitation to the certainty carrying his voice. "My only stipulation is that the matter be resolved privately."

Behind closed doors, with no record of it taking place. That's what the unspoken condition is, and Harvey lifts his coffee with an indignant snort over the lid. "If that's the best shitty offer you can come up with, then you need to take it to her, not me." He swallows a sip from the paper cup, keeping his opinion concealed. If Donna agrees, there's no chance of a class action lawsuit going forward, and he loathes the idea of her working in the same building as Pullman, but she'd made it perfectly clear she doesn't want him making decisions and acting on her behalf. Yesterday she'd accused him of not being able to take a step back. He's not going to prove her right, especially within the cusp of twenty-four hours.

A brush off isn't what the partner was expecting, and he stands straighter, brushing the snow clinging to his sleeve. "You might not believe this, Mr. Specter—" he eyes the man cautiously "—but I'm looking out for Ms. Paulen's best interests."

The words feel threatening rather than giving a sense of assurance, and Harvey narrows his gaze. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Ted braces himself against the lawyer's turn from disinterested to protective—the cord he was hoping to strike. He isn't lying about his concern for the redhead. If the matter can't be resolved outside of a courtroom, he'll be forced to put his personal feelings aside and be brutal in order to defend the reputation of his company. "It means, we both know Ms. Paulsen is likely to reject the offer coming from me, and if she continues to make allegations, I'll have no other choice but to call her character into question."

"I want you to think very carefully about the next words out of your mouth," Harvey warns, his voice dangerously low. Donna's integrity is ten times that of Pullman's, and if they even consider painting it to look like she lied, Samantha won't have to do a damn thing. The facts will speak for themselves.

"Nothing that my sources tell me isn't true," he baits, not about to wage a war with claims he can't back up. "Ms. Paulsen was almost charged with a serious felony, impersonating an NTSB agent, and she was also once fired for destroying evidence, correct?"

Harvey tenses at the unfair parallel, his eyes flashing angrily in Donna's defense, but no matter how he justifies her actions—fuck—they're true claims. Enough to cast doubt should Donna move to a trial, which puts him over a goddamn barrel.

"You seem to care about her a great deal, Mr. Specter, and I promise you, I'm only looking for a way that serves everyone's best interests, including your own." He dials the threat back, folding his hands into his pockets. "Make this go away and I assure you, I'll oversee the changes to my son's department. He won't have any more to do with Ms. Paulsen, and we can all put this misunderstanding behind us."

"You mean lie to her," Harvey clarifies, more for his own sake, to hear the consequences of the ultimatum out loud.

"I mean, protect her," he amends, offering an alternative view. If he backs the man into a corner, the lawyer will come out swinging, but there's plenty of room to move. Loyalty isn't black and white, it's just a matter of perception, and he leaves Harvey to ponder his choices, choosing to believe that the carrot he's dangling is enough to sway things in his favour.

Harvey stays where he is, his breathing coming out in hard and fast swirls against the cold air. He's been in hundreds of situations where the obvious answer isn't always the right one, but this is a new territory he's facing. He'd do anything to protect Donna, including convincing Samantha to give a plausible reason to drop the suit against Pullman, but that would mean going behind Donna's back and manipulating the situation to keep her out of harm's way.

With the tension between them at the moment, if he goes to her directly, he risks watching her suffer without there being a single thing he can do to stop it.

He's never been more conflicted and thinks about calling someone to talk him through it; Mike, Jessica or even his mother—but he stalls with his thumb hovering over his contact list. It doesn't matter what advice he's given, it's a choice he has to make for himself, and no one else should wear the consequences. This is on him, and he buries the phone back in his pocket, leaving the snow covered grounds with no idea what the hell he's going to do.

…

...

Donna checks the time—again—pulling her legs up underneath her with a sign. Harvey had texted an hour ago to ask if he could stop by after work. He hadn't alluded to a reason, but the evasive and short message had set her on edge anyway. Not once has he ever checked with her before coming over. He just shows up. Angry, worried, apologetic—leaning on whatever excuse he has to be gracing her doorstep. She's anxious about his sudden break-away from habit, doubting the behavior has anything to do with respecting boundaries.

He's been trying to give her what she needs, to be patient even though the quality is something he lacks, and since their morning on the bridge, she's found herself slowly opening up to the possibility there's still a relationship to salvage but pushing more, being together—her heart skips and tightens beneath a budding pressure in her chest.

He might claim to see her in a different light now, but less than a week ago he'd been committed to Paula, promising his life to another woman, and she dives her arms around herself, drawing in a breath. She wants to believe him. Over a decade of picturing what they could be like as a couple makes her ache with the desire to let go, but she's afraid of moving too fast. Letting him in and having it all come crashing down because he won't accept her needs encompasses more than his self-restraint. They can't go back to the way things were before. She's worked too hard to define her independence, but she wants to move forward with him—she just doesn't know if he can absorb the changes or if he's looking for the comfort of something old and familiar.

He's always been a creature of habit, but when a knock sounds at the door, she's reminded of the difference in him recently, and the gnawing feeling in her stomach returns with a vengeance as she moves to let him in.

The hesitant smile on his lips does nothing to reassure her, but she steps back, giving him a wide berth to enter.

He crosses the threshold, greeted by the warmth of her apartment, and he shrugs out of his coat as the lock clicks softly behind him. He bundles the item over his arm, following her into the open space of her living room, and breathing in the silence. She's never invited him in without a reason before but when she pulls out a chair from the dining table, seating herself to face him, he can't escape the quiet dressing down of her gaze. She's confused, and he's—

The hell if he knows.

He's been torturing himself all day with the ramifications of Ted's offer, but the only conclusion he can't dispute is that omitting is the same as lying. He and Donna have always been honest with each other about hard truths, and he won't compromise the foundation of who they are—no matter how much he wants to protect her. "Ted Pullman approached me this morning, with an offer to get your job back."

She stiffens, recognizing the tone he's using. He obviously didn't initiate the meeting, and it sounds like he was presented with a deal on her behalf but he doesn't represent her, and she'd made that fact perfectly clear the other night. "I told you, you're not my lawyer."

"I know," he agrees, the brutal statement one thing he can defend against. "I said he needed to take it up with you, not me."

He folds his coat over the back of the couch and she relaxes slightly, not doubting he'd vocalised the instruction, but her phone hasn't rung all day. There's more he isn't telling her and she pulls her lip tentatively between her teeth. "What happened?"

"He threatened you." There's no point sugar coating the conversation he'd had with the partner. The decision to tell her the truth means being fully transparent, and he relays the full story. "You get to keep your job, Pullman verbally apologizes—but if you don't drop the class action suit, they're going to bring up Liberty Rail, and anything else they can to discredit you."

"Accuse me of lying," she fills in, dropping her gaze down to her lap. Realistically, the ultimatum shouldn't come as a shock. She's not naïve and has read too many other cases splashed across the news with the same outcome. What she can't understand is why Ted Pullman would approach Harvey instead of herself directly. Whether she accepts or not, how she's presented with the offer doesn't make any difference—confirming her theory Harvey is hiding something. "Why did he go to you and not me?"

He throws up a hand, but her glare stops him from following through with the deflection. Ted approached him for one reason; because the older man thought he could manipulate the situation by playing on his fears. But he's more afraid of losing Donna to his own arrogance than someone else's. "He wanted me to make the suit disappear so his offer seemed like the only one worth taking."

Which would have meant lying to her, she deducts, and knows the assumption is correct when his eyes flash away from her. Her stomach churns with unease at the reaction. He'd said Ted approached him in the morning but several hours have passed since then and she pushes him to reveal exactly how close he'd come to taking the offer. "You thought about it."

"Yeah, I did." His shoulders deflate with the admission. He could try and bury the war he's been waging with all day, but he didn't risk a chance to keep her safe to come out the other side of his decision lying. He's here to give her the full truth, even if that means bathing himself in a bad light. "Ted said he'd make sure Pullman stayed away from you if I agreed to do what he asked—so yes, Donna, of course I thought about it."

His expression breaks, and she can see everything from guilt to regret residing in his eyes, but they stay fixed on her, firm in the resolution that his hesitation was in some way warranted. She stands up from the chair, stealing herself from under his gaze and turning toward the window.

He flinches, swallowing roughly. It doesn't matter how often they have the same conversation, he always ends up on the wrong side of it when all he's trying to do is protect her. But there's nothing else he can do. Looking out for her comes as naturally as breathing, and the reflex might lead him to making stupid decisions some times, but if she's going to keep pushing him away, he doesn't have any choice but navigate through them as best he can without her. "I said I wouldn't hurt you again, and I won't, that's why I'm here. So if you're pissed I waited, fine, but I won't—"

"I'm not mad."

She stops him, steering around to meet his confused frown, and the reaction impulsively draws her forward. The biggest fear she's been harbouring is that he wouldn't be able to put her above his ego. That they'd keep treading the same tired path where he acts without thinking because he doesn't trust her. But he's here now, proving beyond a doubt that he does, and she closes the distance between them, her hand lifting in a fluid motion—not giving pause to think about anything else as she guides his mouth down to her lips.

It takes him a moment to register any reaction, but she deepens the kiss and his fingers sink into her waist, pulling her closer as his heart races wildly in his chest. He's terrified of misreading the situation, afraid he'll open his eyes to her tearing away, but her thumb grazes the nape of his neck with a light, reassuring touch, and he relaxes, a warmth spreading through his body when she parts them with a gentle smile.

"You're not mad." The words bubble up from his throat, and she shakes her head, trailing her palms beneath his jacket to sit flat against his shirt. His muscles flutter under the contact and he must be an idiot, because rather than take hold of them, he questions his confusion instead. "Why not?"

Her lips wind around a huff of amusement. "You want me to be?"

"No, I just… that wasn't—"

He stumbles, looking for words to explain himself, and she slides her hands further along, urging him to take a breath. He does, letting it go with a sigh, and she feels a small tug of guilt by how unnerved he is. He's been trying to get her to open up and maybe planting a kiss on him wasn't the right way to start, but his grip hasn't loosened, telling her he isn't upset—just struggling to figure it all out. "I know you care," she says, holding his gaze. "You're allowed to be worried, Harvey. You think I'm not?"

Honestly, he hadn't considered she might be having second thoughts over the case. Her plans prior to now existed without him being involved, at least not in the way he'd craved. She's always been fiercely independent, and he respects the trait which is why he thought she'd be angry about how close he came to making the decision for her. "I almost—"

"But you didn't," she cuts him off. "You wanted to do a really stupid thing to protect me, but instead you chose to talk to me about it first." Maybe she shouldn't be awarding him points for how long it took him to reach out, but she isn't taking a leap of faith based solely on what happened today. When Mike left, he'd called needing her help, but he'd swallowed his pride, accepting things were different between them. The night Pullman had attacked her he'd been there, dropping everything without question. And yesterday on the bridge, he hadn't pressured her into confronting anything she wasn't ready to face. He hasn't just been trying. He's been showing her, in his own way, that she's the most important person in his life, and she blinks away the moisture building under her lashes, lifting her fingers to brush the line of his jaw. "You said I make you the man you want to be, and the man I'm looking at right now—that's who I want to be with."

There's no uncertainty beneath her touch and air rushes into his lungs like he's been breathing underwater for weeks and didn't realize it. "You're sure?" he asks, wearing his vulnerability for her to see. He wants to be with her more than anything, but he doesn't want to leave room for any mistakes.

She answers the question with a wide smile and the reassurance pulls him down to capture her mouth, the feeling of her lips opening up like coming home to his father's smooth jazz and a glass of scotch. He'd be perfectly complete if it weren't for the burning desire to access more, to prove to his mind what his heart is telling him—that she isn't going anywhere.

He deepens the kiss, and she arches her back, wrapping her arms around his neck to keep her balance but his palms catch her and she's in no danger of falling as he steers them toward a surface—the nearest one, making her hum with amusement. "Harvey," she pants his name in a warning." We are not having sex in the kitchen again."

He chuckles against the hollow of her throat, his lips in competition with his sense of direction. "Never say never."

She throws her head back to give him better access, almost tempted to just go with it, but his firm push turns into a pull toward her bedroom, their limbs tangling together as they navigate the obstacles of furniture in their path. Her hand absently flies over the light switch as they stumble inside, and she shivers as he pushes her cardigan down over her shoulders, her hands battling to remove his jacket and tie with the same urgency.

His thumbs slide under the silk of her top, grazing over her ribs, as he kicks off his shoes, removing the item and letting it pool on the floor as she works his shirt with more care than last time and he helps her pull it off, his thighs hitting the edge of the mattress. She separates them to shrug off her pyjama bottoms, but his mouth objects the distance, fusing to hers with a low growl when she unbuttons his trousers, cupping his hardened length through his briefs.

He catches her wrist, swallowing her whine of protest, but he's already dizzy with just the feel of her so close, until she forces herself free again, her eyebrow hiking up as she shimmies onto the bed and slides herself back until she's propped up on her elbows.

His eyes roam the lacy garments sheathing her body, and his chest expands with how beautiful she is—perfect in every sense, right down to her sultry smile that winds through his insides until the mattress dips with his own impatience.

He stills above her, reading everything he'd had to stop and ask last time. There isn't any chance of this ruining them. They're here together, finally on the same page, and he moves in to kiss her, palming her bra and curving his hand around the swell of her breast. She spills a whimper into his mouth as her nipple hardens, straining against the delicate fabric, and he can tell she's close to another plea when he expertly works the clasp, replacing his thumb with mouth to attend to her needs.

She scrapes her nails down his back, lifting her hips and swallowing a moan when he drags a trail of kisses down the length of her body, slipping a finger along the inner edge of her panties with several maddening strokes. She writhes for more and lets out a frustrated groan when his lips smirk over her stomach.

"Harvey," she chokes out his name, her hand absently pushing at his shoulder to encourage his wandering mouth lower.

He chuckles at the attempt, but obliges, sliding down her panties and fluttering his breath along the inside of her thighs. He has no intention of making her wait. Maybe later, when they're both depleted and exhausted, he'll take his time lazily exploring her, but all he wants to do right now is be as close to her as possible, and he laps his tongue against her center, lavishing her with his full attention.

She fists the sheets as he maps a path up to her throbbing bundle of nerves, bucking her hips when he swirls and flicks over the sensitive nub, making her desperate to feel him deeper inside her, and he answers the silent plea, sliding one finger and then two into her heated core with careful thrusts that would have her begging if he wasn't already in tune with her every need. She comes undone around him without any sense of herself, stars blinding her vision as she sinks into the pillows, vaguely aware of him crawling up to steal her mouth.

The kiss rejuvenates her senses, her body ready and in search of more, and her hand drifts waywardly down his chest, the feel of how hard he is driving her focus. She tugs at the elastic of his briefs, setting him free, and smirks when he jerks on impulse.

She catches his shaft, but the hold does nothing to ground him, just makes him strain with more desperation, and when she nudges him over, he succumbs to the command, rolling onto his back and sucking in a breath as she blazes a trail of fire down over his abs.

Her lips cover his tip, slowly at first, testing how far she can push him and— Jesus, it's not going to be far.

He's already soaring under her ministrations, his heart rate accelerating, and he screws his eyes shut as she works him toward the edge of his sanity. He's always prided himself on stamina and being able to deliver in the bedroom, but this is different.

She's different.

Since the night they met she's held the power to command or ruin him, and he's never given that control to anyone so willingly before, but once again she proves worthy of his surrender when he's right on the verge and she suddenly lets go with an audible pop.

He buries himself in the assault of her tongue as it lashes into his mouth and her urgency propels him to flip them over, pulling back to find her gaze in the light. He's never cared much for aesthetics before, but being able to see her, the way her hair fans over the pillow and how her lip pulls between her teeth is breathtaking.

She bucks her hips, digging her heels into his thighs to coax him, and the few seconds of taking her in are enough reprieve to put her first. Maybe he hasn't always been capable of it over the years, but the bedroom is where he's most confident, and he's dedicated to learning the rest, because she deserves the entire goddamn world without having to ask for it.

He pushes inside her, fighting to keep a steady pace as her nails bite into his shoulder spurring him to move faster. He does, answering her need as he kisses everywhere he can access, the taste of her skin and smell of her arousal demanding he let go, but he fights it with every ounce of control he devours her, squeezing her nipple and feeling her clench her walls around him.

He slips his thumb between them, circling her clit and her release is all it takes to send him cantering over the edge with her, his muscles going slack as he shudders inside her.

She feels his weight collapse but his elbows take the brunt of his exhaustion, because even now—like this—he's still protective of her, in a way that makes her regret ever doubting his intentions, and when he finds her gaze, his eyes hazed with a tender gleam, she smiles up at him. "Hey."

"Hi." He repeats the greeting, folding an arm beneath her to anchor them, and her gentle prod against his palm spreads a warmth through him that's filled with words they don't need to say,

Everything's changed.

But in a way they're both here for, and if this is what forever looks like, he never wants to go back.

AN: Sorry for the delay, I'm a bit behind in writing and reviewing, but that's only because there are so many amazing stories to keep up with :D Thank you to Southsidesister (darvey_love) for being wonderful and inspiring, and giving up her time to help me, and to everyone leaving reviews and still writing xXXx Darvey4ever ❤️