*RE-BETA'D AS OF 05.02.16*

Notes: Big Thanks again to everyone who's reviewed so far;
I just love how Mike has the propensity to a be a little gossip.
I have an end written that I'm trying desperately to get to!

CHAPTER 6

'Don't make me sad
Don't make me cry
Sometimes life is not enough
And the road gets tough,
I don't know why.' - Lana Del Ray, Born to Die

"Harvey...do you love...Donna Paulsen?"

The question thudded, every syllable reverberating against his frontal lobe, this gnawing pain in his head throbbing, a mixture of stress and scotch and beer; an indication that he'd reached his limit of alcohol and just about everything else.

Mike pushed again having found him silent at the first attempt.

"Harvey...do you love her? Answer the question."

"Who are you? Louis?" He said, shrugging away from Mike and once again walking in no particular direction around the living room.

"Do you love her? Yes or No?" Mike said, a tender, pragmatic edge to his voice. "It's a simple enough question."

"My father loved her," He mumbled.

"Yeah?"

"He used to speak to her most days.. she'd pass him onto me and the first thing he'd ask was why I hadn't married her yet..." He smirked at the memory. "And every time I'd say to him 'It's not like that, we're not like that', and every single time he called me a Jackass."

"Smart Guy...and now?"

"Now?" He clarified. "I don't know," He sighed, taking a last swig of what he decided to be his last beer of the night and placed it on the makeshift coffee table.

"Your problem is you have this beautiful, smart, intelligent woman in front of you who genuinely loves you and has never really had any competition for you to discover if you actually have feelings enough to fight for her,"

"Actually, there were a few guys... she got engaged once, "

"What? And what happened?" He said, suddenly interested.

"Were you not listening at the mock trial?"

For Mike, suddenly all the pieces fell in place.

"That was *the guy*? Oh my god Harvey, she chose you over her *fiance*?"

"Can I point out, *I* never asked her to chose. He...did that." He replied defensively.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure you didn't make it easy for her...did you?" Mike goaded.

"The guy was an idiot;" He defended. "Some Pediatrician in Tribeca. Tried to steal her away from me at some evening out with the Partners."

"Steal her away? ... Look, Harvey, if you don't find an answer to that question then you can't resolve any of this," said Mike.

"I know," He whined, rubbed his hands over his face, sinking onto the sofa as Mike joined him.

"This is a little 'schoolyard', but maybe you should go see her, try and keep your hands off long enough to maybe...talk to her?"

Mike waited, watching his Boss in what could only be described as suspended animation for what felt like hours.

"Well you've been no help," Harvey immediately got up, grabbing his coat.

"Are you kidding? I couldn't have been a better Wilson to your Tim,"

"Really? 'Home Improvement'? You don't even have a fence..."

"Hey, I could have pulled out an 'Al' but I didn't feel like it was right for the moment," He remarked.

"Thanks for the beer," He mumbled, heading for the door.

After all the time
After you
Had you seen me with someone new
Hanging so high for your return
But the stillness is a burn

I can't give it up
To someone elses touch
Because I care too much - 'Infinity', The XX

Donna Paulsen was not, nor would ever be a fan of blind dates.

They were staged in the worst way, forced and almost always awkward. Plus, they mostly included going out with some investment banker; divorced, two kids, bitter that the wife had taken everything and looking for a 20-something stripper who could do the splits, but was too afraid to look like the asshole that he most probably would look like in front of modern society with such a woman on his arm. Therefore, he would subject some poor 30-something woman who was perhaps very attractive, to feel inadequate at not meeting an expectation that he was still childishly looking for. It was a repetitive notion, one she'd seen time and time again and she was not a fan of wasting her evening on that. However, her friend June insisted that the guy was a friend of a friend and *not* an investment banker and that it was time for Donna to get back on the horse, as it were.

Unfortunately, she'd arranged the date pre-Harvey kissing her. And with the experience still fresh and the memory of it just a thought away, it was starting to cloud her perception. She'd tried the remainder of the weekend to keep the vivid imagery at bay, busying herself with multiple sensory overload between the calorific food, mainstream music and brain-numbingly boring daytime television; but there was only so much you could escape, and only so much Yoga to clear the mind.

So here she was, sat at a small table on a quiet Monday night in Little Italy fiddling with her Napkin.

"Donna, right?"

She followed the voice, looking up at a youngish man, dark brown hair, light blue eyes, overly innocent demeanour.

"Craig?" She guessed.

The man nodded, sitting opposite her, noticeably anxious. "Craig Jenson."

"Donna Paulsen, Hi." She smiled.

"Sorry I'm late, have you been waiting long?"

"No," She waved him off, "Not that long, would you like a drink?"

"Would it seem bad if I said yes?" He laughed self consciously causing her to join in.

"No, not at all."

"Blind dates huh?" He joked, nervous and a little taken-a-back. It was cute.

"Yeah. I know the feeling,"

You know what was worse?

Your Ex-Boss kissing you in a way that made the blood rush to your toes...

He ushered the waitress over, ordering a glass of Merlot.

"So, June tells me you work at a law firm?" He asked, taking a swig of wine.

"Yes," She lied, not seeing the point in discussing everything that had happened over the last month. Some things were not meant for 1st dates... "I'm an Executive Assistant to a Partner at Pearson Hardman."

"Wow, that's a big firm, I've heard of them. In the press a lot?"

"Yeah," She nodded, feeling the need to change the subject. "June said that you're a...writer?" She asked, trying to look overly interested in the hope that it could move off the topic.

"Yeah, freelance, mostly." He nodded. "Small articles, reviews, that sort of thing." he said,

"What kind of articles do you write?" She asked.

"Oh, all kinds. It depends on the feature." He smiled almost tiredly. "I tend to write a lot of architectural articles, the freeform of New York City verses its development; how the economy changes the way we develop the city. I love the art side of New York and how people miss it. Or sometimes, where it's a focus and people use it to help the healing of New York since the recession, you know."

"Sounds diverse." She complimented. "I sometimes wish that I'd focused on the arts more,"

"Yeah? What would you liked to have to done?" He leaned forward, engaged.

"Probably act; I love the theatre a lot. It's my biggest passion. But I love...my job," She said, trying not to let the weight of the topic unsettle her. "And I'm good at it, it's just that...I wonder, sometimes, what would have happened if I'd pursued something closer to my heart."

Closer to her heart. Less complicated for her heart...

"Me too." He smiled in agreement. "I wanted to be a - and please excuse the masculinity dip here - a Botanist."

"Really? Green Fingers huh?" She joked softly.

"Yeah." He smiled, catching her eye for a moment. "I wonder where I'd have ended up had I continued to study,"

"On the west coast of South America maybe?"

"Yeah! Exactly," He laughed, "The world is our oyster. It's hard sometimes to remember that, especially in New York."

"You could write anywere,"

"And you could act anywhere,"

"I could act better in New York," She smiled.

She found herself staring back at this man. He was open, and honest and warm.

Perfect date material.

It made her self-concious.

"Well, speaking of oysters," She said, a slight calm settling in as she grabbed her menu. "We should order?"

You gotta choose
Who's going home with you tonight
Is it me?
I gotta know where we go from here
Red, Amber, Green,
~ 'Gotta Choose' ~ Fink

She knew when he'd offered to have her driven home first that the date was going well. Craig was nice, seemingly one of the last geniunely kind guys with a passion still left in his heart and a similar take on life as herself. He was also quite attractive without being a playboy, which was a refreshing change. More earthy; not necessarily her usual type, but there was something about the dimples on either side of his face teamed with this almost lack of awareness of how cute he was making him seem even more attractive.

Yes, She thought, She'd like to see this Craig again; even through the fog of the past month, there was something about this man that stuck with her, something that she wanted to figure out. A little puzzle just for her.

The cab pulled to slow halt outside her building. He held the door open for her and she smiled in reply as they walked slowly towards the building's entrance.

"So, this was..."

"The best blind date I've ever had?' He suggested, humour and ambiguity colouring every word, causing her to laugh again.

"It was okay," She jested, noticeably teasing him.

"A 'five'?" He offered, playing along.

"Maybe a seven?" She remarked, a faked cautiousness.

"Wow, yeah, it felt like a seven." He joked, eliciting a full out chuckle from Donna.

Her eyes searched his, a small shiver rising from her stomach to her diaphragm, she knew this was the moment, the big enchilada.

"...Harvey..."

The words left her mouth before her brain could take them back.

Harvey 'The Worst Timing Ever' Specter was standing on the sidewalk.

Behind her date.

She didn't use the word 'Fuck' often...but it was there. On the tip of her tongue, just behind her teeth.

Her eyes suddenly flicked back to the man staring back at her who was almost none the wiser.

"What did you say?" He asked.

"Um, I have to cut our goodbye a little short, Craig. I've had a really really great time, though." She told him, trying to reassure him with the honest if not rushed look in her eyes. "And please don't misconstrue this as a 'brush off'...my...boss... is standing over there, behind you and I'm guessing he's here because of a problem at work. I'm really sorry." She said, kissing him quickly on the cheek.

"Okay," He said, squinting at the man behind him. "Well, um... I'd like to call you? Maybe have a non-blind date next time?" He offered, his mouth turning up with an attempt at a smile.

"I'd like that." She smiled back.

As she watched Craig getting back into the cab, smilling one last time, the warm, dewey feeling slowly diminishing as a fiery sharp tang filled its place. She noticed Harvey still waiting, hands in pockets as her date rode away into the night.

She approached, kicking her heels a little in frustration.

"What, Harvey?" She replied heavily.

"Had a date, huh?" The slight edge in his voice wasn't lost on her. She hadn't worked for him for nearly 10 years not to know what every nuance in his voice meant.

"Which you ruined the end of, by the way," She accused, walking to the front door.

He followed her into the building and up the stairs until she was fumbling around in her bag for her keys.

Giving her a look, he bypassed her, reaching into the pocket of her thick black coat, pulling out the keys and dangling them patronisingly in front of her.

"I watched you put them in there." He explained. "Listen, Donna,"

She frowned at him, opening her door.

She knew that he was following her when the sound of his footsteps followed her to her door. He sighed, ignoring his presence, her keys fitting in the lock as she opened the door, flicking the nearest switch to her lounge and shrugging off her coat. "Why are you still here?" She gestured.

"I came here to talk,"

"Really? Wow, I wish this Harvey Specter had been at my party!" She replied sarcastically.

"Donna," He pleaded, fighting his ground.

"What Harvey?" She said, using his name like a weapon. "You get mad at me at my leaving party, you publicly sulk all night and the next thing I know you have your hand up my skirt and your tongue down my throat. And now, you're hanging around my apartment building like a lost boy and ruining the ends of my dates."

"Hey, you kissed me back,"

"Yeah, well...that was a...mistake," She managed.

"Really?" He pressed, his eyebrow twitching.

She knew pointing the finger wasn't going to justify anything to this man.

"You were sad about Zoe, Harvey, and I was drunk," She reasoned.

"Donna, this isn't about-" He argued, before his voice was swallowed by hers.

"You're changing, clearly ...you're moving out of the playboy lifestyle and you want something real now, I get that." She said, taking off her earrings and tossing them into her key-bowl.

"Hey, didn't I buy you those?-Donna LOOK, I THINK I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU SO IF YOU COULD JUST,"

"What?"

"You heard me, I think that... I might..." He gestured in the vain hope that he wouldn't have to "be in love with you." ... repeat the words.

It may have felt like pulling teeth for him but for her it was like taking a bullet, the slow-motion impact felt like it had pushed her five feet in the air. She thought the time she'd been accused of loving him in public was bad enough, but this was possibly worse.

It all felt so wrong. What was wrong with them?

"This is just an adjustment Harvey. You're not in love with me,"

"And how do you know that?" He countered, a slight irritation framing the words.

"Because if you did...I'd have noticed."

"You don't know everything, Donna."

"I'm the best friend, Harvey," She countered. "I'm the one that is always there. You're just missing someone always being there, that's all. It'll pass. It's only been one day."

He came closer to her then, an open interest in his face, almost seeing through her. "I really hurt you, didn't I?"

"No Harvey, I hurt myself. You were just on the other end of it."

"You're scared," His chest puffed out a little, goading her.

"No Harvey, I'm just over it." She replied, detached, blaze.

He closed in on her, faces inches from hers, his warm breath grazing her cheekbone.

"Even when you're angry you look...very beautiful." He whispered, the words alien but his eyes watching with a familiar mirth. Hers widened a little before she had time to check herself. She wanted to tell him that it wasn't for his benefit, but she didn't want to be a bitch; it was unbecoming. A breath hitched in her throat, her head trying to come up with a coherant arguement. But they were both sober this time - her having had only one glass of wine with dinner and him clearly lucid if not a touch out of character - they didn't flow together quite as easily this time. She watched him, thinking through every possible action in a matter of seconds.

She wanted him to leave. She needed him, for her sanity's sake to leave, right now.

She must have zoned out for a second because the next thing she knew his tongue had flicked gently against hers, testing, careful. She hadn't been able to connect her thoughts to speech as his fingers found the edges of her hair. She opened her mouth a little more, tasting the coffee and those little mints he kept in his desk draw, as her tongue swept over his, his lips soft and the slight stubble on his chin tickling her jaw.

As if a flick had been switched, their kisses suddenly became insatiable, his right hand moving across the fabric of her silk dress, cupping her breast, thumbing at the nipple as his right hand pulled their hips together. She reciprocated, moving in a wave of desire as her hands fell under his suit jacket, finding the skin of his back from between his pulled-out shirt and pants until she couldn't feel enough of him and yanked him out of the sleeves of his jacket, both of them forgetting the thousands that it cost and letting it thud to the floor in a messy pile.

Losing any notion of a bedroom or her open drapes out into city's night, he backed her up gradually against the door and she complied, kicking off her heels and letting him suck at the skin just under her chin, rough and possessive as their pace fastened, continuing to assault her lips as they both fought for control.

Her hands loosened his windsor completely, aggressively throwing it over his shoulder as he ground into her rhythmically, every time a little harder than before. It was too much for her as her hands fingered his buckle, almost ripping the clasp open. He joined her at the buttons of his suit pants, both heaving against eachother, she sucked at his earlobe, tasting salt and cologne, eliciting a hitched breath when his hand went under her skirt, quickly removing her panties and cupping her ass in the process.

Her stomach lurched as he picked her off the ground, her back hitting the door; he lifted her leg, paying attention to kiss the top of her knee before he wrapped it around his waist, one hand around her waist and the other palm flat against the door as he thrust fully into her.

"Harder," She mumbled, breathless; cheek against cheek.

Donna had never been the one to jump to endgame. Like most women she enjoyed the foreplay, being treated to satisfaction before was an unwritten gentlemans's rule in Manhattan, but this was beyond that. In the moment she wanted nothing more than to be fucked by Harvey Specter; primal and urgent. Her nails dug into his back as he touched the right spot, grunting slightly, her breath matching his as he gained pace, her eyes fluttering, her mouth pouting and a little frown forming as she felt his fingers working against her sensative spot in a counter-rhythm. Before she could acknowledge the fact, she was coming all over him, knocking her head against the the back of the door, with him thrusting harder, sweat pouring; he soon followed moments after.

His head fell to her shoulder, body slumping and the feel of his legs quivering slightly against hers as he put her down. They stayed like that for a few seconds, regaining their breath and civility until he withdrew from her and began to quietly redress himself as she pulled down her dress, peeling her moist back off of the door.

She felt at odds; even in a post-coytal daze half of her wanted to drag him to her bed so she could see what his hair really looked like in the morning; and the other half was desperate for him to leave.

"So..." She smiled nervously.

"I should go...?" He rubbed at his neck unsure of his own words.

"Yes." She agreed.

She watched as he searched her face, wondering of what was really going on in the back of her mind. She had never been so thankful that he didn't know her as well as she knew him. She could see him eventually resigning himself to a lack of understanding, his back hunching in defeat. She'd only seen him like that once from him once before, when he'd failed to catch her at the elevator. She didn't like it then, either. She side stepped him when he finally reached for the door, his clothes now scruffier than when he'd arrived. She held it open for him as he turned back to her, his eyes dark and unyielding.

"I'll call you," He said, jaw flexing.

"Okay," She nodded.

Game face.

It's taken long enough to see,
Your true colours,
You've got so many baby,
You're like a fuckin rainbow,
Just let me revel in your blue notes, ~ 'Honesty' ~ Fink

She finally let out the sigh she'd been carrying since he'd left, the sound of the water rushing immediately, calming her as she turned on the old bath taps, the smell of lavender and calendula soothing aching muscles as she poured the mixture into her bath. Waiting for the bath to half fill, she slipped into the water, pulling her hair to form a knot on the top of her head.

She kept replaying the last half hour in her head with a high definition quality; the smell of his hair, the feeling of his teeth against hers, the way he moved inside her like he was claiming her.

She *was* scared. Of what they were. Of what they could be. And how hard it would be to get there. They had avoided a chasm-worth of their potential relationship for such a long time, only navigating in the comfort of the professional. Maybe they didn't have what it took to be anything more?

It would mean changing themselves and eachother too much, she wagered.

It was time to be resolute.

To grow up.

And no Rivers and no Lakes could put the Fire out ~ 'Seven Dials' Florence and the Machine