Prompt by Gabby (louislittmeup): Pre canon. Harvey and Donna are walking through NYC until it starts snowing heavily. They remember Mike and Rachel's apartment is nearby (m and r moved to Seattle) so they run to theirs for shelter.
.
Cold Night
.
Their shoulders brushing against each other, he steals a look to his right. There is this silky red hair enveloping the person that is walking beside him, crowned by the most beautiful nose he's ever seen, as if he'll ever tell her that, or anyone for that matter. He's always learned to keep his opinion on her looks to himself, for thirteen years now. He's not gonna start now. He says instead
"Walking wasn't that great of an idea huh,"
She chuckles.
"I guess not."
They were having drinks at the office. It's Christmas eve and he gave Ray the rest of the night off. If he's not going to spend Christmas with family, at least he'll give the poor man a break to see his. Donna was flying to Connecticut the next morning, she had to finish work after all, and Harvey was, well, Harvey. Even if he made amends with his mom, he wasn't going to leave important cases just to play Merry Christmas when he spent the most of his adult life not caring about the holiday. He offered to take a cab, but she didn't want to. Said that walking on Christmas eve was something you have to do at least once in your life and Harvey couldn't say no to her. Not when they're finally on decent terms after the ugly war Paula started. Not when they spent the entire night drinking and teasing each other as if they were back in time to that DA's office. And even if he knows it's already snowing.
So they walked home. Or tried to. Because the snow started to fall heavier and the ground was slippery and that surely didn't help Donna with her high heels. She almost slipped for the third time and he was, again, to the rescue.
"Okay, this is not helping," he said while helping her stand up, "we got to take a cab. The snow is already filling the sidewalks and we can't walk like this."
He looks up
"Seems like a blizzard is on the way."
"But there are no cabs! Look," she said, exasperated, and already guilty for making them walk on such a cold and snowy night. He looked around, "shit", trying to find some solution, but she already started talking him out of anything he's already thinking about.
"No. Harvey, you're not gonna call Ray at this hour and in this weather."
"Probably not," he mumbled, already knowing she's right. He looked around, checking the empty streets, and for a second, she saw his face lightening up with an idea.
"What?"
"Come on, I know where we can go."
"Harvey, I'm not gonna sit around in some bar waiting for the storm to stop. It may never stop!"
"We're not going to a bar," he tells her, eyes still looking around, "come on, you think you can walk a few more blocks?"
"Ugh, sure. Whatever…"
They continue walking, more like her following him wherever the hell he's taking them, and before she knows it, they are standing in front of Mike and Rachel's old apartment.
"Harvey, Mike and Rachel don't live here anymore."
"No shit Sherlock?," she rolls her eyes because, of course he's being the smug bastard he's always been. "Come on."
They go inside, straight to the front door of their friends' apartment, and she watches him getting out his keychain and unlocking the door.
"What the-"
"Just go inside first, will you? It's freezing. I'll answer whatever questions you got once we actually get some warmth"
They go inside, walking to the end of the hallway and dropping their soaked coats on the hanger. He takes off his suit vest and tie as well and goes straight to the living room looking to turn on the heat. She follows him with faltered steps, rubbing her palms against each other and watching him with a frowned look on her face. Once he finishes lightening up the fireplace, he turns around to find her standing by the living room's entrance, raising her eyebrows at him expectantly.
"What?"
"Won't you gonna tell me why you have a key to probably some stranger's apartment?"
"It's not some stranger's apartment!" he burrows his eyebrows at her, like she's being the unreasonable person here. "It's a friend of mine's, actually," he mumbles, and Donna looks right through him. He's lying.
"Oh yeah? What's his name?"
"Rick Sorkin." He answers with a confidence that makes him look like the most honest man ever. Although, Donna knows best. She always does.
"Rick Sorkin is the person Mike took his place to get in your interview years ago. So if you think you can bluff me, please try something that doesn't include my job, because i kick ass at that."
"Then it belongs to Jake Gray. And he is a friend of mine" he knows she already got him, but doesn't want to give up yet, making up an obvious lie.
She makes a thinking face, "yeah… He's not. And try something that doesn't include anything that has to do with your personal life because I kick ass at that too."
He shakes his head, laughing at her sass and jokes aside, she does know him very well, and he's not gonna deny that. Ever.
"Okay," he says while sitting on the couch, inviting her to sit beside him. He leans his elbows on his knees and sighs
"Mike asked me to rent it out for them when they left. I never did. I created a fake tenant, been paying rent ever since"
She frowns even more at what he's saying, but she doesn't find it surprising at all. She's just realizing why he did it, it's all coming back to her, and her heart aches a little for him.
"In case they came back…" she whispers to herself.
"I know it sounds crazy…"
"No Harvey, it doesn't. They're our friends, and they left. It hurts and if this makes you feel better, it's not crazy at all."
He gives her a smile, just a small tight lipped one. She watches his face, and every fear he nurses in his chest comes back to hit her in the face. He's still the man who's frightened by others leaving him, and her thoughts wander back to when she left him her resignation letter, feeling a small pang in her own chest for ever daring to do that to him. She knows he wasn't fair to her, knows he acted like a selfish prick. But she knows him, she always has. And she knows that that selfish prick is just what his fears and vulnerabilities built as a defense mechanism because of everything he's been through. And she knows deep inside that, even if he didn't do her justice back then, she loves him. And she doesn't want him to feel the hurt he's been feeling all this time.
"It reminds me of all the things I've lost."
She wakes up from her thread of thoughts to focus on his looking-away eyes. He looks back at her and finds her startled expression.
"The apartment. It reminds me of all the things I'm still gonna lose." and he's looking at her so intently she feels trapped. He's not accusing her but she feels nevertheless guilty. He swerves his jaw and rolls his eyes lightly, "it's not like I don't deserve it." And now she knows he's talking about her. She's hurt. She's hurt for him, and as much as she'd love to hold him in her arms and tell him she'll never leave his side, she does what she knows best. She guides him with her words, like she always has.
"Harvey, You don't deserve it. And don't forget that you're a winner. Always were and always will be" she squeezes his arm lightly and smiles back at his nod.
"You think we can find something to drink in this place?"
"Thank God I left some bottles here on Mike and Rachel's last night. Let me go grab one."
She watches his retreating form up until the kitchen door where he disappears, and she's still lost from what Harvey just revealed. He cares. He has always cared, and it breaks her heart for him to be left with nothing everytime he dares and opens his heart a bit. She never gave him a hard time about hiring Mike because she knew that, if he could offer guidance and mentorship to someone, maybe it'll make him change his view about things. And he did. He's more open now than he has ever been, but he's still lost, and he's still getting kicked by life, left more alone than he's been everytime. He lost Jessica, and the thought that it was for Mike's sake made him feel a little bit at peace with her decision. But now he lost Mike as well, and he must think that every emotion he let creep into his heart is vain. And she hates it because his pain always has been hers. And even if she's crazy mad at him for not giving them a chance when she asked for more, for running in the wrong direction and fucking everything up, she can't help herself, because her and Harvey have always been and always will be the two different hands interlocking, holding and completing each other.
She looks up when she hears him coming back from the kitchen, holding two empty glasses and a bottle of red.
"Heyy, you found my favourite drink!"
"You think I was gonna leave a bottle of the finest scotch here? Are you crazy?"
She makes an annoyed face, and he looks at her, more intently now that he can. Her appearance strucks him. She's barefoot now, pulling her legs under her thighs and popped up on her elbow, which is resting against the back of the couch. She looks… at home. He softens at the thought but shoves it out of his mind, blinking and making his way to sit down.
They poor themselves a bigger than usual amount of wine under the pretext of the cold and their need to warm up, even though the fire is brightly sprinkling on their side. She asks him to open a radio she noticed in the corner of the living room. He changes the channels until she tells him to stop at one that's broadcasting old fashioned music. Makes it feel more christmassy, she says and he doesn't mind. They talk, a lot, mainly about firm issues and gossip. She fills him in on the latest couples at the firm, a habit that never goes away (as if he cares, but he loves hearing her talk wickedly). He tells her about the latest Louis breakdown because Harvey missed their lunch. The conversation flows between them, just like it did when they had drinks at his office earlier and just like it did during all these thirteen years. Before they know it, they're sharing Christmas stories and even disappointments. Harvey's latter are more common, but she makes him feel better just with some words, like she always does when they talk about his life. They look around the apartment, making fun of Mike's things (because, come on, of course his taste is shit).
"Don't act like your apartment is tasteful," she teases him.
"Hey! It was you who helped me decorate!"
"Yes but it wasn't me who put that god awful statue near your fireplace," she raises her eyebrows and points her finger at him
"But‒"
"Or those freaky airplane models!"
"They were supposed to add a rustic and sophisticated effect," he argues, serious and eyebrows furrowing as if he's argumenting a case.
"You made that clear when you asked me to help. That's why I got you that damn black leather sofa instead of a comfortable real couch"
"Oh now my sofa is repulsive?"
"It's not repulsive. It just doesn't speak to me."
He grins at her words, picturing themselves arguing about which couch they'll keep when they'll move in together. There's a silence and she looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue their banter and counter her argument, but he catches himself wandering in dreamland and chastises himself for it. His tone resigned, he answers her
"Fine. But you gotta admit, that bicycle frame thing," he points to the one hang up on the wall, frowning, "Not. It." he shakes his head and she chuckles because he's got a point.
They fall quiet, catching their breath from all the laughter. The song on the radio fills the air instead of their talking and he wanders his sight across the room. It must be the damn December month romanticizing everyone and everything because, while eyeing the dim light around, he feels his heart, that he tried so hard to bury after Mike's leaving, longing for something he's still at loss with. Until he briefly looks at her sitting next to him and he's reminded of everything once again. He spent these last months thinking about their kiss and their dance at the wedding. And if she didn't have the balls to kiss him in her office, if she didn't clutch that hard on his shirt while dancing or brushed her nose against his ear, he'd be the same stupid Harvey he's been through all these years. But he knows now. He doesn't just know, he's certain but he's also scared. He's scared shitless but isn't that what he's always been? He's afraid she doesn't love him like he loves her. He's afraid she decided to move on because of the asshole he's been to her in the aftermath of their kiss, and everything that happened afterwards. But what good his fear has done to him? He's been afraid since the day she told him to put everything behind, thinking that the best way he'll ever have her is this, working together and no more. But what good has all that done to him? He's still trapped under his silence and fear, convinced that their platonic relationship is what's gonna make her stay for the long run but all she has been doing lately is slipping away. He's got one question on his mind: what does he have to lose now?
His thread of thought breaks when he hears her asking him if he wants a refill, that's when he looks down on his empty glass. Instead of answering, he grabs the bottle of wine and pours her some wine.
"They left a big hole behind, didn't they?" he hears her say
"Nah, I wouldn't be that dramatic," he retorts while going for his glass to fill, "didn't like the kid that much," he scrunches his nose amusingly before taking a sip and it brings out a laugh out of her. She watches him look at the ground for a second, like he's already lost in thought but the casualness in what he says next amazes her, how he's easily able to sound normal right after vulnerable thoughts obviously crept into his head. Years of practice, must be.
"But they gave us one hell of a wedding!"
"I gave us one hell of a wedding," she looks at him with a smug face for a second, before actually realizing how it sounds. He purses his lips, giving her the most tight smile ever and she knows that his mind, just like hers, wandered to their dance that night. She doesn't want to talk about this further for his sake, mind searching for any other conversation just to spare him. He doesn't want to bring it up, she thinks, just like he doesn't bring up anything that happens between them.
On the other hand, he doesn't know what hit him. Maybe it's the cold night, or the fact that it's Christmas and he's finally going to at least call his mom and talk for the first time ever, after God knows how many years, or that she's actually the one reason why he now can. He doesn't know. It could be the orange swaying light of the fire that's enveloping the room and them, or the milky freckled skin of her legs that is bringing up in him the most vulnerable feelings. He is sure though that it's her hazel eyes that are shining and never leaving his, reminding him of how she looked at him closely when they were swaying under a light that pretty much resembles the one they're bathed in.
"You did. Also gave me one hell of a dance." His voice is low, deep, and it vibrates across her body, making her feel a delicious hum and what the fuck is he trying to do? She takes a sip from her glass, giving them both the time to think about how to go on from this conversation. He eyes her other hand that's resting in her lap, seems to ponder for a minute before taking it in his left hand and shit. She feels her heart falling in the abyss of her chest, pounding against her ribs and really, what the actual fuck is he trying to do?
"What's its story?"
"Hm?" she is seriously thrown away now, not having any fucking idea about what's going on.
"What's the story behind this?" he rubs his thumb across her one line shaped ring that she always wears in her middle and fourth finger, "you've always worn this, from the day we met."
Oh
"Oh," she breathes. Good. He's not doing anything. He's just asking about her ring, no big deal. This Harvey, she can deal with. Although she's a bit startled because he doesn't let go of her hand.
"Uh.. I bought this when I was twenty-seven. It's really nothing, just a piece of yellow silver I wear all the time."
He doesn't buy it.
"Oh come on. You've been wearing it at least for the last thirteen years. Must mean something to you?" He continues to rub his finger across the ring, but his big thumb is also rubbing her two delicate fingers and she feels a warmth spreading from his fingertip to her skin. It's really nothing but her insides are melting and she forgets who they are. She forgets that he's her boss and she forgets the firm and the universe they exist in. They are just two people that are sickly connected to each other, have known each other for a whole lifetime, and he's caressing her fingers in a way that's making her question everything preventing them from happening. She caves.
"The day I decided to let go of acting. I was taking a walk to clear my head and make peace with the decision. Saw the ring in one of the stores' windows and got it. I'd like to think of it as a symbol of my past." She pauses before saying, almost shyly, "We met at the bar the night after that."
He's slightly confused, as if he's pondering what happened that night thirteen years ago.
"But you asked me to let you go to your auditions whenever you want to.."
"It's not like I didn't want to try more. I did, and I went to auditions while working with you, you know it. But deep inside, I knew that the day I start doing this, I'm gonna be done with acting. It's not a bad thing, it's just, I knew. And it was. Done, I mean. I kept getting refusal after refusal. It's a jungle out there, you know? And I had to make my life," she shrugs, takes a pause to look at the hand that's still holding hers, "it also became a symbol of the future I chose for myself. I loved that future, became my life. And whenever I look at it, it's like a bittersweet memory, reminding me of all the good things I let go of and all the good things I found on the way," she finishes with a small smile, now telling the story to herself more than to him. She's a little lost, eyes fixed somewhere on her lap, and he's not sure she's looking at the ring or their hands interlocking. He squeezes her hand and she looks up at him. He smiles back at her, still holding her hand, and gives it another squeeze, silently telling her that it's the same for him. Ever since that night at the bar, he's sure she's all the good things he found on his way too.
She's nervous. Not because he's making her feel nervous but because as strange as whatever is happening between them tonight, she doesn't feel weird at all. He's there, warmth wrapped around her hand and he's looking at her, and she feels dazed and giddy and nervous. Distantly, she hears the notes of a piano spreading from the radio to her ears, the melodies of She's got a way filling the room. She'd recognize the song from miles away, she adores Billy Joel. She begins to feel self-conscious and thinks about pulling her hand and putting an end to whatever this is, but he beat her to it, asking the least thing she expected to hear from him
"Dance with me?"
"Wh- what?"
"Come on! Dancing on Christmas eve is something you have to do at least once in your life. Or was that only true with walking?"
She quickly hides her confusion with a smart remark
"Who told you I never danced on Christmas eve?"
He looks at her, pondering for a second, then says
"You never danced with me. Come on" and he gets up, slowly dragging her with him to the center of the room where he spun her before setting his other hand on her waist. She hesitates on how she's supposed to put her hand. They danced so closely at the wedding, true, but they don't have the excuse of bestman and maid of honor having to dance together tonight. He notices her hesitation because he subtly catches her arm by the wrist and slowly wraps it around his neck. He then softly retreats his hand back to her waist, brushing his fingertips on her arm on the way, and he's got this discreet smug smile when he notices the goosebumps.
.
She comes to me when I'm feelin' down
Inspires me without a sound
She touches me and I get turned around
.
He begins swaying them to the melodies of Billy Joel, maintaining some space between them, but when he hears those damn lyrics, his mind just snaps and his heart says fuck it because he's closing any distance between them and he's holding her tight, bodies flush against each other dancing slowly to the lyrics to come.
.
She's got a way of showin'
How I make her feel
And I find the strength to keep on goin'
.
He rests his cheek against hers, his hand slightly caressing her back and she is a puddle in his arms, losing logic and control, only consumed by his scent and the smoothness of his jaw on her cheekbone. He hears her quietly hum, and he feels all his body vibrating. This is not even close to Mike and Rachel's wedding. This is them practically fusing to one person. This is intimate, them pining for each other for so long everything else is just meaningless. All the rules and the fear and the many boyfriends and girlfriends that got in the way. This is longing.
They're not even dancing anymore. Their feelings flooding the whole room they don't even need to sway, or pretend it's just another excuse to be close to each other. They're just holding each other, his hand somewhat let go of hers and travels to her neck, sliding his fingers through her hair and catching her warm flesh, bringing her even closer. Her hand automatically finds its place around his other shoulder, resting her fingers lightly on the back of his head. And they just stood.
.
She's got a way about her
I don't know what it is
But I know that I can't live without her
Anyway
.
The song comes to an end, but neither of them move, scared that this moment alongside every other fragile one of their past, gets lost in the wind, forgotten. He moves his fingers on the back of her neck, drawing small invisible circles as if he's trying to tell her he's here, and he knows. Leisurely, he moves his face from the side of hers to rest his forehead on her temple, testing her but also doing something for himself because he can't stand being disconnected to her even though they can't be more close, clutching each other's body the way they are. He feels her relax at the touch of his nose on her skin so he kisses her cheek. His mind running a thousand miles an hour because holy shit he just pressed his lips on her skin but also because all this is not even close to enough for him so he does it again, lingering his mouth this time, then again when he's even closer to the side of her mouth. He opens his eyes, looks at her and she's clutching hers closed. He continues his quest, kisses the corner between her lips and she whimpers. That's when he goes for her lips, catching them with his and his heart pounders against his ribcage because she's kissing him back. He can hear the sound of her lips capturing his, again, and again, and again. The power with which his feelings come crashing down on his chest makes his left hand travel even more down on her back, crumpling her dress with his fingers while his right hand cradles the back of her head, pushes it to make her lips even more impossibly close for his mouth to devour. The kiss is purely longing, passion and oceans of emotions finally flooding the outside of their hearts. He sucks at her lips, before being able to pull back somehow, needing to catch her eyes. They hold each other's gazes, silently having that endless conversation, and for once, everything clicks. One second, it was all it had to take. She dives back in, licking his upper lip and he groans, giving her access to his mouth, their tongues crashing down to an earth-shattering reunion. He turns them around, clumsily walking them back to the couch to fall chaotically on it, two bodies making out as if it was senior year. He holds both of her hands with his, brings them to the back of the couch, successfully locking her underneath his body. Something deep wakes up beneath him. He's just kissing her but he's already rock hard against her stomach because he never witnessed something like this: overpowering lust but also feelings so strong he swears it's love. She's exhaling small moans synchronized with his thrusts and she likes the feeling of his shaft sliding across her body. She likes how this arrogant tough guy is reduced to a needing vulnerable mess and that she's behind it. But she's a mess too and finally, finally, they're both letting go and‒
"What's wrong?" she pants, eyes hooded because he stopped.
"I want this...," he whispers, breathless.
"I want this too Harvey," she slides her palm on his cheek in an affectionate way.
"I want this.. But I can't do it in Mike's bed," he cringes and she bursts out laughing.
"I'm serious"
"That's what you're thinking about while we're kissing?"
"I have a point and you know it"
She pauses, looks around the place while he's still flush against her, and she's still feeling his arousal now on her thigh. But he's right.
"You're right. I don't wanna do it on Mike's bed too," she says and he finds it amusing that she's having trouble with this relating to Mike too and not Rachel.
"We can do it here? On the couch," she adds
"No way they didn't do it here as well," he says and then they look at each other for a second, realizing what he just said. Suddenly he's on his feet, extending his arms to her and lifting her up. They share a laugh, because they're literally searching for somewhere to have sex and it's crazy and unbelievable but this is so them. Bantering and making jokes and being goofy. The laughter dies and they share a knowing look.
"Wait here, I'll be back."
He disappears in the hallway and before she knows it, he's holding white comforters and sheets, tells her to go grab some pillows. She's wickedly grinning at him and complies. When she returns, he's already made something that looks like a bed in front of the fireplace, and she gotta give him credit, it sure looks comfortable and cozy. He's honestly not thinking about sex anymore. Just the sight of this domesticity and the casualness between them makes him just want to hold her to sleep. She drops the pillows and arranges them on the sheets. They stand side by side, silently admiring their work. He leans in to her side, whispering to her ear:
"Mind if you join me to bed?" she grins at his silliness. He watches her curiously because she's not taking off his clothes or turning around for him to unzip her dress. She just marches to the edge of the comforter and dexterously slips off her dress, standing in matching black and lacy underwear for him to admire before slipping under the blankets. He clears his throat after a frozen moment, smiles back at her mischievous expression and starts to take off his clothes to join her in no time only in his boxers.
"Hey," he whispers while wrapping her waist and bringing her close.
"Hey," she whispers back, face already in the crook of his neck and they take a pause, breathing each other in, trying to process that they are actually here in each other's arms and even though nothing happened yet, every excuse and inhibition that wedged a distance between them in the past feels so damn far away. They're wrapped in warmth and in each other's silent love and the time stands still for them to bask in their mutual feelings, in their finally we're here.
He lowers his face, rubbing his cheek against hers and their lips slowly come closer like magnets, unable to postpone this maddening push and pull between them any further. He tastes her mouth as soon as he thinks about it, pushing his tongue into hers that is more than welcoming it in her mouth. He pulls himself up and hovers over her, seeking more contact, more skin and their kisses are no longer even kisses, both of their mouths open and simply sliding across the other's. He breaks their union first, of course, because he wants to worship her body and he can't wait any longer. He licks her neck, sucks and nips the skin of her shoulder and he's searching beneath her back simultaneously. She gets the hint and arcs it for him to pop her bra open. Fast enough, she's braless and he's sucking on her nipples through the melody of her ravaging moans. He hums with each suck and it sends vibrations through her breasts and to her core. She pulls him up for another kiss, feels his huge hands on her asscheeks squeezing and kneading and she can't take it anymore, already worked up and feeling herself dripping wet. He leaves her lips, begins to make a trail of kisses to where he thinks she's expecting him but she's already moaning his name
"Harvey"
He continues his quest, thinking that her crying is a good enough reason to go on when she grabs his head with both her hands and makes him look up at her
"I don't know how you do it but I can't wait anymore"
And that's his let go cue, disappointed for not being able to taste her soon but also relieved because the bulge in his boxers is painfully hard. From down there, he pulls out her panties, takes a pause to admire her mound because it's perfect and he looks gradually up at her and she takes his breath away
"You're so beautiful," he whispers at her and gives her slit a soft kiss that makes Donna whimper from anticipation.
After discarding his own underwear, which grants him a sigh from her while eyeing his oh so missed length, he goes right up and she catches it in her palm, stroking it slowly
"Fuck, Donna…" he moans, "stop, mmmm"
She positions him in front of her slit and he doesn't even wait for her to pull her hand up when he gives her a long and forceful thrust that makes her cry out his name.
"Uhhh, shit sorry.. Did it hurt?" he groans against her mouth, and he chastises himself for losing control
"Don't be. Do it again," she pushes her nails in his back, urging him on an he does just what she asked him, thrusts again and that's when they both knew this is not gentle or slow, this is them fucking thirsty for each other, and neither one will last more than five minutes. He takes a pause, holds her hands and brings them above her head. He gives her temple a soft kiss, as if he's telling her to brace herself for what's to come. He begins rocking in and out, feels her moving her hips along with him. The slapping sound of skin against skin fills the room and each one loses it even more every time they hear the other's moans and pants. Quickly enough, they're over the edge, crying each other's name like a self sacred symphony.
He brings his face up from her shoulder, frees her hands from his hold and pulls up his head with difficulty to look her in the eyes. They both share a smile, and she opens her mouth slightly. He gets the hint and dive into a sloppy long kiss.
"I love you," he mumbles against her mouth and quickly finds himself kissing her teeth because she's widely smiling. She cradles his face and makes him look at her.
"I love you Harvey"
"Good," it's hardly there, his voice turned hoarse and he digs his face back in her neck, never slipping out of her folds, and they stay like that until she feels him grow hard again. They make it to round two that turns into round three, and he gets to taste her, just like he lets her taste him, their night of escaping the cold turning into blazzering fire.