I know it's been a while since my last post – sorry about that! I'm very behind on my writing and my reading – I still have so many secret santa fics to read! I'm hoping to get caught up over the next couple weeks, and that it will get the creative juices flowing again.
Anyway, this chapter was the winner of the last poll. It is a season seven canon divergent fic that takes place in between their kiss and the Machel wedding.
Hope you like it!
««« ×ǁ CAN OPENER CHRONICLES ǁ× »»»
She can see the difference in him.
It's clear as day.
The way he's been in his head as of late – quiet and almost isolated and not at all like himself.
There's no Cheshire cat grin skimming across his lips, none of his usual bravado and charisma, and not even a single joke made at Louis's expense.
It's weird, is the thing.
At first, she didn't think much of it – just assumed it was due to a bad day in court or some frustrations with a client – nothing out of the ordinary.
But then, the next day and the day after that were more of the same, and so, the concern started to simmer.
Halfway through the week, she's certain that something is wrong. Still, she can't seem to figure it out. There's no pending catastrophe, no recent loss that could still be festering, and the anniversary of his father's death is not for another three months.
She's completely at a loss.
By Friday, she casually mentions his mood to Mike and to Louis, but no one seems to know what's going on with him. No one else even seems to notice.
She's always noticed.
More than anything, she wishes she could just ask him about it. It's what she would've done before, but now? Now, she's not sure if she can bring it up – if he'll even tell her.
Things between them have been weird ever since their kiss. It's why she's been keeping her distance, trying to be respectful of his relationship like he wanted.
Still, she can't help but notice things. She can't help but observe, especially when it comes to him.
After twelve years, it's not something she can really stop.
Even if she could, she's not sure she'd want to.
So, she doesn't.
She continues to observe him, study his behavior for clues, and spend way too much time speculating.
Day after day, she's no closer to figuring it out.
And then, a week rolls by and his behavior hasn't changed. He still seems detached and dejected – she can't remember the last time she heard him laugh or saw that signature grin lighting up his face.
What frustrates her even more is that she still has no idea as to the cause.
With each day that passes, it becomes increasingly more difficult to keep herself from asking.
She just needs to know.
She's always been nosy – although, she'd prefer to call it being curious, inquisitive, keen.
But, with Harvey, it's even more than that. With him, she's worried.
It's why the confrontation was always inevitable. She was never going to just let it go – not for long, anyway.
It's late one night and she is on her way out when it finally happens – she can't keep it in any longer.
She's walking by his office and finds him sitting on the couch, staring at the glass of scotch swirling in his hand.
His shoulders are slumped, his tie is loose, and his dress shirt is a bit wrinkled as he sits alone, his office blanketed in only one dim light.
She knows Harvey and his cries for help don't get much more obvious than this.
The image forces her to stall near his doorway, debating with herself on whether she should walk through the threshold or keep moving towards the elevator.
She thinks she should probably let it be – leave it to his girlfriend to deal with.
Except, logic never seems to matter when it comes to him, not when he's sitting there, alone, and so obviously distressed.
Inhaling a breath, she makes the decision.
Yeah, she can't do it anymore – she can't pretend she doesn't notice.
Strolling inside, she doesn't even bother to announce her presence or knock. Instead, she just takes a seat right beside him.
"Harvey, are you okay?" She asks, gently, turning her body to face him. It's the first conversation they've had in weeks that has nothing to do with work.
"I'm fine," he dismisses with a shrug of his shoulders, still staring at the liquid swirling in his glass.
"Harvey… c'mon," she insists, not letting him off the hook so easily.
Lifting his head, his tired eyes finally meets hers. "I'm fine. It's just… it's been a long week," he explains with a sigh, torn between wanting her to believe it and wanting her to dig deeper.
There's something in his gaze that tells her it's more than that, more than just work. Still, it's probably not her place to force it out of him – that right belongs to someone else now.
"Are you sure?" She questions, giving him one more opportunity to open up.
"Yeah," he exhales as he tugs at his tie, loosening the knot even more.
"Alright," she responds, clearly not buying it. She's almost certain he's lying, but she can't make him tell her – not anymore. "What are you still doing here, anyway?" She wonders, deciding to change the subject. It's the first time they've been alone like this in a number of weeks and the unease is starting to wash over her. "Why don't you head home and relax? Paula must be waiting for you," she adds, the words tasting bitter in her mouth.
"She's not," he replies, a slight shake of his head, his gaze once again directed at his drink.
"Oh," Donna replies, something in his voice telling her there's more to the statement. She's halfway through talking herself out of getting her hopes up when he answers the unasked question.
"She broke things off," he explains before gulping down the rest of his scotch and placing the empty glass on the coffee table.
"Oh," Donna says again, taken by surprise. She doesn't even have a chance to process the news before she's trying to console him. "I'm sorry, Harvey," she apologizes, her palm rubbing small circles on the spot between his shoulder blades, trying for a comforting gesture.
She means it, too.
As much as she never thought Paula was right for him, the last thing she ever wanted was to be the cause of his unhappiness.
And right now, his unhappiness is clear as day.
"Thanks," Harvey replies, not looking particularly affected.
Blowing out a breath, Donna continues, knowing there is more that needs to be said. "If – if this is because of me… if it's my fault… I could… I could go talk to her?" She suggests, despite how little she wants to do it. "I could tell her it was a mistake, that it won't happen again, that she shouldn't blame you for something I did… I'll make sure she knows that it was all me – that you didn't reciprocate or anything," Donna offers, the guilt churning in her stomach. Given the timing, she has to assume this is her fault – while she really thought they had all gotten past it, that stupid kiss seems to be biting her in the ass once again.
Harvey stares at her, studying her for a minute, and it instantly puts her on edge, making her feel as uncomfortable as she's ever felt under his watchful gaze. She's not sure what he's thinking and she's torn between wanting to ask and never wanting to know. She doesn't even have the time to make the choice, because he's speaking up before she has the chance. "Donna, we both know that's not true," he tells her, giving her this knowing look that's anything but expected.
"What?" She asks, blinking in confusion.
"I did reciprocate," he refutes. "That night… I kissed you back," he points out, refusing to shy away from it.
She's visibly caught off guard by the response, surprised that he would ever admit to such a thing.
Sure, she felt him lean in that night, but the fact that he knows, that he's admitting it – she's stunned.
"Well I uh – I'm sure it was just a reflex," Donna reasons, still trying to give him the out.
"It wasn't," he says, with a shake of his head.
"It… wasn't?" She repeats, suddenly feeling like this conversation has gotten away from her. Her head knows that she needs to put a stop to it – that whatever happens could ruin them, could ruin her. But, her heart can't get the words to leave her lips. She wants to know what he's going to say – she wants to know if this time could be different.
"No," he admits, looking far more certain than she ever would've anticipated. He's not even trying to look away – his gaze trained directly on her, watching her reaction in the dim light of his office.
"Then…" Donna encourages, trying to pull an explanation out of him.
But, Harvey interrupts before she can summon the courage to press him on it. "Paula didn't break things off because of the kiss," he informs her.
"She didn't?" She asks, becoming more confused with each passing second.
"No," he confirms, his gaze redirected to his hands fidgeting in his lap.
"Then why?" Donna inquires. She can feel herself holding her breath, her heart racing, refusing to even let herself imagine what he's about to say.
"Because… because I couldn't tell her what she needed to hear," he divulges, lifting his head, his eyes locked on hers once again. "She asked me if I have feelings for you… and I couldn't give her the right answer," he explains, looking stoic as he awaits her reaction.
"Uh… wow… wow, okay," Donna says, completely frazzled, as she absent-mindedly straightens out the non-existence wrinkles in her dress.
If she had five hundred guesses, she never would've been right. She never anticipated this – Harvey confessing his feelings for her? Not even close.
Despite his insistence to the contrary, she's always thought there was something there – that he cared for her far more than he let on. But she had given up on the idea of him ever realizing it, let alone admitting it.
The fact that it seems to be happening now, she can't even begin to reconcile that.
"It's always been there… no matter how much I tried to pretend otherwise, it was there… at least, it was for me," he continues, thinking out loud. "And when you kissed me, the way it made me feel… I've been struggling to figure out what it meant, and I think Paula could see that," he reasons, seemingly still working it all out in his head. "And, when she asked me – I knew I couldn't lie," he rationalizes.
Donna feels herself exhale a shaky breath, still in complete shock over his words.
"These last couple weeks, I've been wanting to tell you, I just… I had no idea how… especially after everything that happened – the way I reacted," he adds, a touch of shame washing over him.
"I hate thinking about the way I treated you – the things I said… I was confused and feeling guilty and I didn't handle any of it well," he admits, looking more than apologetic.
Sliding closer, he reaches out for her hand, cupping it in between both of his. "I just… I hope you know how sorry I am and that I didn't mean what I said," he expresses.
"The truth is, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since that night in your office," he continues, his eyes glistening with honesty. "The truth is, every time we're in the same room, all I want is for it to happen again," he confesses, looking more vulnerable than she can remember.
Donna is stunned silent, unable to believe the words coming out of his mouth.
Given his reaction to their last kiss and the way things have been between them lately, she never would've imagined that he was hoping for a repeat performance.
"Donna?" Harvey says, pulling her from her reverie, as he gently squeezes her hand.
"Hm?" She asks, still in a daze.
"What… what are you thinking?" He inquires, this almost shy and sheepish look exploring his features.
"I uh…" She stammers. "Are you sure about this?" She wants to know – those late night confessions over dinner and a bottle of wine flooding her brain and making her cautious.
"Yeah," he confirms, nodding his head. "Really sure," he adds, while inching closer. "I meant what I said, I can't stop thinking about you," he murmurs, his hand coming up to caress her jaw and tip her chin upward.
He's close enough now that his lips hover over her and she can almost taste him. Their eyes lock and everything she's ever wanted to know is suddenly shining in his gaze.
This is real. He's not going to change his mind or back track. He wants this, she can tell. She can feel it.
She tilts her head forward, giving him the green light, and he immediately captures her lips as if he couldn't possibly wait another second.
As they sit there on the couch in his glass office, getting reacquainted with each other, Harvey doesn't waste any time, his palms already roaming her body – sliding up her thighs and skimming her waist. There are so many other places he wants to touch, but he's cognizant of where they are and does his best to control the urge.
Eventually, he tears his lips away, panting as he meets her dark eyes. Her mouth is swollen and pink and her hair is messier than when she walked in several minutes ago – and God, is it a sight.
Their foreheads meet and his grin is contagious, a giggle slipping from her lips as she finds it staring back at her.
"Did you feel that?" He whispers, his fingers drifting through her strawberry locks.
Somehow, her grin expands tenfold. "Yeah," she admits. "I did."
She sees the relief and joy painted all over his face and it immediately sings through her, too. Her heart is kicking hard against her ribs as she feels the flush of heat creeping up her neck.
Without a second thought, he brushes his lips against hers – one, two, three more times before pulling away to get a good look at her.
She feels warm under his soft gaze, the adoration brimming in his eyes and hitting her right in the chest. After all these years, and especially these last several weeks, she never imagined he'd look at her like this and she's unable to contain the feeling of bliss that convulses through her.
She's about to lean in for another kiss – or five – when: "Can we get out of here?" He implores, needing more than he can get in the confines of his office.
She grins, knowing that's exactly what she wants. "Yeah," she nods her head in agreement, still trying to comprehend the way her life has unequivocally changed in a matter of minutes. She still can't quite believe it.
Meanwhile, he's up and off the couch in seconds, holding out his hand and pulling her flush against his chest as soon as she takes it. This time, he doesn't hesitate to lean in, seizing her lips once more before taking her palm and leading her to elevator.
They get to her place in fifteen minutes, but it's nowhere near fast enough – the two of them exchanging heated looks in the back of the cab, unable to keep their eyes off each other. He doesn't stop touching her the entire ride, whether it's his hand resting on her thigh or their interlocked fingers and his thumb brushing the back of her palm. It takes every ounce of self-control he has not to push it further, maybe explore a bit underneath the hem of her dress, but he holds back, knowing it'll be worth the wait.
When they walk through the threshold of her apartment, he doesn't waste any time, quickly pressing her up against the back of the door, a predatory gleam in his eye that makes her heart beat a little faster.
His fingers brush against her jaw and when their eyes lock in the dim light of the hallway, it all hits him at once – how right this feels.
As scary as it is, he knows without a shadow of a doubt that this is where he's supposed to be.
He kisses her, then, refusing to let another second slip back. He kisses her without hesitation, without restraint – the way he should have been kissing her all these years. She gives it back to him exactly the same way, insistent and demanding, as he relishes the way her body feels pressed against his own.
Soon, she's walking backwards towards her bedroom, pulling him by his shirt and then she's swiftly unbuttoning it before tossing it aside.
The back of her knees hit the edge of the mattress as he slides his palms up her stomach, skims the sides of her breasts, and breathes against the curve of her neck, sending goosebumps all the way down her spine.
He's barely touched her and she's already out of breath.
When he pulls back just enough to meet her gaze, she sees every response to her unanswered questions reflecting back at her and she just knows –
This time, he's spending the night.
««« ×ǁ CAN OPENER CHRONICLES ǁ× »»»
Please don't forget to review! And don't forget to vote on what you'd like to read next.
Same as before, the only information you get is the time period of the chapter:
One: A few years into married life.
Two: On the anniversary of Gordon's death – pre canon.
Three: Five weeks into their relationship
I'm still trying to finish up some other one shots I have on my computer so hopefully the next chapter will have more options – wish me luck. I will also be posting the next chapter of With a Twist in the next week or so.