ELEVATOR

"She's not going to wait around forever, you know. Make a move."

These are Scottie's parting words before she ends the call, and it's all that's been on his mind ever since - having him pace around the office until his feet simply carry him across the fiftieth floor, to do what exactly he isn't certain.

But then he spots her in her black dress, coat draped over her arm. Waiting for the elevator.

His feet move before his mind manages to catch up, and just as she senses his presence, turning to face him, all of his vocabulary seems to vanish into thin air. The only thing he can think of doing to get his point across is recreating the way she let him know- by closing the distance between them.

His lips pressing against hers as his right-hand cups her cheek. He feels the surprise rush through her until her lips start to move against his own, and what he already considered a brilliant end to his day is now heavenly. The way she melts into him, his tongue meeting hers and the low moan escaping her as they part.

He pulls back, looking at her, and she does the same, her balance wavering as she takes a step back. Her wide eyes are still locked with his own; his breathing laboured as the ding announces the arrival of the elevator.

Neither moves, but their moment is broken all the same by the man stepping out of it. "Ooh, perfect timing."

She flinches at the sound of his voice. "Thomas," she says, feeling her throat dry up and she instinctively moves away from his touch, but she's too slow for his hand still lands on her arm.

She feels her heartbeat drumming in her ears, her mouth dry, and all she can do is look back and forth between the two men. The look she gives Thomas conveys, "I thought we were meeting downstairs." And when she notices his gaze drift off to Harvey, she nervously looks at him too.

His lips are still parted; she can see the confusion in his gaze, and even if she should be mad at him for simultaneously blindsiding and rocking her world like that, she can see those walls that temporarily crumbled down around them being rebuilt in this exact moment.

"Right," she whispers then, realising the only thing she can do at this moment is introduce them. And it feels absolutely surreal to watch them shake hands, both using the one that had been on her body mere moments ago.

Harvey doesn't speak more, merely nods - silently bidding her a good night, and she feels his gaze linger on her even when she leaves, entering the elevator with another man.

She doesn't go out to dinner with Thomas after all; she only tells him when he opens the door to the cab. Not the real reason: that Harvey just kissed her, and even if he may never go through with it, it reminds her of what she always knew deep down. She'll never be able to cut him out of her.

He's still standing there, staring at the spot she was just in, replaying the entire interaction in his mind, from pure bliss to confusion.

He doesn't notice the sound of the elevator arriving again, nor does he see her stepping off of it again. It's only when he hears his name that he turns to face her. Her eyes are a little swollen, not like she cried but emotional all the same.

"Did you know I was seeing him?"

It's the first thing she says, and it floors him all the same because even if he suspected as much now, he only truly lets the meaning of her words sink in.

He shakes his head, but she doesn't seem to notice it, for she steps up, her voice harsher now that she speaks again.

"Is that why you kissed me?" She asks, "because I was finally moving on from you?"

He shakes his head again and looks down to avoid her gaze. It's a cowardly move, but it's all he's got at the moment. "No."

It startles her, his answer and the tone he uses. She isn't sure what she expected him to say if she even expected him to say anything, and she certainly doesn't expect an answer when she asks. "Why then?"

"Because I wanted to," he admits, a soft shrug following as if his body has to physically act out the weight he feels being lifted from his shoulders. He looks back up at her, his gaze meeting hers again; he takes a deep breath and brings his hand to his nose - a gesture that only happens when he's nervous, and he thinks he hasn't made it since he was fifteen asking his crush out for a date. But this is more, she is more, and he's damn right to be nervous, but now that the words have left his lips, it's as if the floodgates have been opened, and he has to tell her.

"Because I wanted to, want to," he repeats, correcting the phrasing cause wanting her has never been a thing of the past. It's ever-present, and he doesn't think he'll ever stop wanting her in the future. "Want you, I just want you."

Her lips slowly part as she takes it all in; she catches the way he nods them. Answering the silent question she was apparently asking, he is ready.

She feels her hand being lifted then, hesitatingly, but when she doesn't pull back, she feels his fingers slip between his.

"I want you," he says again, taking a step towards her. "I want us. I think I've always -"

wanted us.

He doesn't get to say it, for this time, she closes the distance between them. And even though she doesn't say it with words in return - her kiss does.