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Don't Give in to that Feeling

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III – I found shelter, in this way

Harvey cupped her cheeks and backed her up against the sink. Engaged in kissing her fervently some more, he felt himself locked in a haze, altered by her. He lost up the frown left by an hour of fucked-up drinking, finally invigorated by something other than his tumultuous brain. He traced the lines of her body beneath the confines of her clothes with his palms and lifted her up swiftly.

She responded to his intrusive mouth by deepening her kiss, her tongue tangling and the pressure of his hips between her legs accompanying the instinctive rotation of his pelvis. His groin region grinding against hers, he wondered just how her dress got hiked up. A barrier had been broken no matter how dressed they were. Intrusive, he definitely was as he went to kiss her temples, cheek and neck. Feeling the pulse of her throat, hearing high-pitched and raspy moans he only heard in dreams – made him feel more breathless, erratic and uneven than the kisses he was administering.

Driven to kiss her wild and everywhere, he noticed how she soothed his passion by running a hand through his hair, slowing him down. Parted lips against his temple, leaving sweet attentions quieted his aching body. He'd caught up enough; he was certain of it. His mouth set on her stained lips again; trimming, zooming in and out on them as if he were a spectator and prolonging the frames of intense sexual desire this time. But he was one of the two main characters in this and he could feel it all; feel how his own saliva was washing away the smeared lipstick of before as he swallowed his sadness and devoured her love. This wasn't some paroxystic event, there was no abrupt onset nor equal sudden return to normal activity; this was an uncontrollable fever.

On fire for him so clearly, he could swear Donna was wetting his grey pants. He was so hard that it could just as easily have been him, rubbing himself this way against her covered and very likely distraught core. He'd never been with another redhead. Even Paula's freckles were somehow a substitute to the real thing. He knew so. Rapidly turning the bathroom into a bedroom Harvey couldn't bring himself to break the kiss. Donna made him feel weak. Weak for everything her: exposed skin, perfume. That scent of a woman, auburn-flavored hair touching his nostrils, some of them stuck in the corner of his mouth and remnants of mint toothpaste detected by his buds to cool his desire. He hoped his own taste – the scotch he'd dared mop up his mouth with wasn't inconveniencing her.

"Are… you… okay?" Angled intervals were enough to not absorb his words completely.

"Yeah…" She broke the kiss and panted, resting her forehead on his. "We're okay." That wasn't what he'd asked but it felt good to hear. Why did she always have to be one step ahead of him? Maybe that was all right. "Aside from the fact that I unlocked the door…"

And sometimes he wished she wasn't.

"Right," he laughed. He tilted his head back and arched a brow. "So…"

"So…" she said, wrapping her arms around his neck again. He didn't say anything for he was too lost in her chestnut eyes to do so anyway. "Can you give me a minute to myself… to freshen up and put those shoes back on?"

"I don't feel like leaving this room."

"You will have to Mister since, as it happens, you still owe me a date." She quirked a brow too.

"I fold," he nodded, disentangling himself from her and helped her straighten her dress as her feet hit the cool tiles on the ground.

He took a look at the state of his pants awkwardly. She eyed him carefully and he could tell she was biting the inside of her cheek. "Save it."

"I didn't say anything, I was just ogling."

"Very funny! Want to do a comparative study?"

"I don't need to."

He gulped.

"But you, having to take a look and feeling so self-conscious about yourself is sexy." The sultry look she gave him told him he should just close that damn door and discard having to broker a deal on that unfinished business right here, right now.

"I don't suppose you have any spare pants?" She was outwardly making fun of him. And it made him feel even stiffer in his pants. He wanted to pound that grin off her face and have her moan between parted lips instead.

"I don't have accidents."

"I hope this wasn't an accident."

"Are we still talking about what just happened? The kiss or just us going out?"

"So you figured out where you want to take me?"

"Like I said... Right now? I just don't want to leave this room."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Let me take care of this."

She grabbed the hems of his suit jacket with authority and removed it from him,

"Donna… what are you–"

She folded the fabric and handed it back to him. "Cover your accident with this and hold it close. No one will know."

"I could have done that myself, you know?" He did as he was told.

"But then I wouldn't have been able to touch you one last time…" She wrapped her arms around his neck again. "Or do this." She kissed him slowly and subsequently laughed against his mouth. "With you tied to your pants."

He smirked; she was infinitely captivating, her witty repartee and that playful banter coexisting in reassurance that everything was okay. But he had screwed up big time tonight and she had been the one reminding him that he was allowed to. He had fooled her once on more occasions that he could count. Tonight was strike two. He wished she would never grant him a third chance. He regained a serious posture, making it a point that what he was about to say wasn't superfluous. "I want to make it up to you."

"We're going to my place Harvey."

This was definitely not what he had in mind. "I don't want you to cook me dinner, Donna!"

"I'm not." She placed a hand in his pocket and took out his phone and handed it to him. "You're going to walk out of here, change at yours, order take out at some fancy restaurant and be at my place at 9, okay?"

He felt more than okay.

III

He'd taken a quick shower, changed into a black long-sleeve t-shirt and traded his jacket for a long coat. With a bottle of some expensive French chateau in his hand and take out in a brown paper bag, he entered her apartment building at 9pm sharp.

He walked up the stairs and reached her floor. The 206 front door was partially open. His heart leaped out of his body. He immediately rushed inside, dropping the bag and the bottle of wine in the entryway leading to her living room.

"Donna?" he called after. He saw her standing, back against the kitchen wall with her phone in her hand. She was shaking and staring at the carpeted floor beneath her.

He slowly put a hand to her cheek, trying to make her look at him. "Donna, it's me."

"Harvey… he…" She was breathing heavily. He didn't want to ask her what had happened yet. Analyzing the situation was his priority even though he'd never reach her level of expertise. He didn't know if she was hurt. She didn't seem to be but that wasn't going to stop him from asking.

"What happened? Are you hurt?"

"It's my mother. She called..." She looked at Harvey, tears forming in her eyes. She was in a complete state of shock, holding on to her phone. Her mother rarely called. The crying, the redness under her eyes, everything pointed out to one thing. "Harvey… my…"

"It's your father, isn't it?" Harvey thought he'd said it too loud – too fast for comfort.

She nodded. "He's gone."

He felt tongue tied, watching the floor and then staring back at her. He licked his lips as if trying to find the courage to pull himself out from inside – unfolding the pain he felt about losing his own father to understand hers. "I'm sorry, Donna."

Empathy couldn't be enough. He wanted to be her shelter, make the events of today either disappear, make his inability to do things right go away. He took the phone from her and then grasped her hand to lead her to the couch. "Let's go sit, okay?"

She accepted his hand and followed him to the couch. "I'm… leaving tomorrow for Cortland. I hope it's okay." He didn't know if she was in denial but he wasn't going to pressure her into shedding more tears.

"I'm going to drive you there," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Harvey, you don't–"

"When's the funeral?"

"In two days." She wiped tears off her face. "This is a four-hour-drive at least."

"I don't care. I'm coming with you." He ran a hand through her hair and settled on her cheek. The contact made her shiver; this had her reach for his hand instinctively. He stroked the corner of her lip with his thumb, trying to soothe away the pain she felt.

"You should go home, Harvey." She gently moved his hand away and placed both her hands on her lap. She was secluding herself again; retreating to her own bubble. Was she feeling empty inside? Was she feeling like her entire world had crumbled down upon her? It wasn't his place to try and feel what she felt. He realized she probably didn't want him on this level anyway. Besides, he'd already felt it a few years ago. And she'd been with him, comforting him.

"Well," he began, rising up from the couch, "maybe I should." He walked to the entryway and picked up the bag and bottle of wine. "But I don't want to."

He watched her from the corner of his eyes. She was staring aimlessly at the large photographs that were hung on the opposite wall. The biggest photograph was her favorite. She was sat at her old piano with her dad. He understood that her mother had taken this picture. It was taken a couple of years before they had to get rid of it; and then move to another, smaller house in Cortland.

He placed the bag and bottle on the dinner table. "I think you should eat something. Maybe have a drink; I know I had one when–"

"This isn't some fucking celebration, Harvey. My dad just died!" The words left her mouth in a beast-like roar and he was her prey.

She wasn't thinking clearly. How could she? "Okay…" He was thinking his next words carefully as he folded and placed his coat atop the back of a chair.

"I'm not hungry. And I don't want to talk about it." She rose up suddenly and walked over to him. "Actually, I don't want to talk about anything. I know you're trying to help me, telling me about your dad is a good idea but it's not what I want right now."

"Then tell me what you want, Donna?" He knew his eyes must have looked like the saddest sight. She couldn't grasp the fear in them for she was very likely too lost in her own anger, very likely feeling hopeless.

"I could tell you I just want to be alone but that's not true. I could just as easily ask you to get back to where we were an hour ago and make me forget." She was standing so close to him, cornering him against the wall that separated the kitchen from the living room. If she asked, he didn't think he'd be able to refuse her indecent proposal. Making her forget was one thing but making her his, reminding her that he wanted nothing but to be with her was the kind of connection he selfishly felt she deserved. Wanting to have her lose herself with him reminded him of how much of an asshole he was. She knew him better than anyone else but she'd taken one thing out of this equation. He cared more about her than she did right now; for all her focus was on her deceased parent and her resolve had to do with deadening the pain. This wasn't her going through grief. This was her testing his resolve to stay and there were so many ways for him to cave. One thing was certain. She didn't want this. Not really. And he knew her coming on to him was her way of making him leave.

"We're more than just that, Donna."

"Really?" She kissed his lower lip. He remained still; never closing his eyes even though the temptation was making him feel all too good inside. He wanted to cry for her. Remind her that this wasn't the way to make him leave. He was here; for her. This was all an act. A complicated situation that enticed rejection with a promise and a forbidden memory of them all the same – and in both cases, it would hurt her.

She placed her hands on each side of his waist. "I just want to forget that I'm wearing this dress." He darted his eyes to the ceiling when he felt her kiss the junction of his neck and jaw. She grabbed the hem of his shirt with each hand. She ran one of her hand under the black piece of clothing, fingertips caressing his navel area. He felt his abs tense up at the touch.

He wanted to kill his fantasy; kill the fantasy of her doing things she wasn't supposed to be doing. Not now; not when she was seeking control as everything around her had collapsed. Seeking him by possibly removing his shirt, careful over his upper arm and shoulder and letting her vulnerability slip away. As he felt her trail kisses close to his collarbone, he pictured her squatting down to his groin level and unbuckle his belt. His eyes rolled at the back of his head, imagining her yanking it away even though it was her soft wet lips he felt cooling down his lips.

And then she would drag his zipper down and take care of the rest. He would feel exposed – with a hint of pride, watching her stare just a moment too long at the hard-on she hadn't seen in years. As soon as he felt her nails scrape ever so slightly against his skin, he caved.

"Stop." He watched her leave his neck. She averted her eyes again and let go of his shirt.

"I'm not leaving, Donna. So if you want to get rid of that dress, just do it. If you don't want to eat, that's fine. But tomorrow, you and I are going to Cortland. Just stop playing with my feelings for you to forget your own."

Rage trickled from her eyes. If eyes could roar, he would have heard them. "I don't want you to see me like this. Can't you understand that?" The look in her eyes – between an accusation and a plea – wasn't some kind of revelation to him. Everything that had led up to this had to do with his very presence in her apartment; touching on her personal space, forcing himself within the confines of her personal space. How do you date someone you've been in love with for so many years? The answer was simple. You don't.

Too much baggage regarding one another; the insecurities of before enhanced times infinity with their newfound status. He could see it in her eyes. The tears had not so much to do with her dad anymore and everything to do with them. Him being here, wanting to be close to her.

"When I lost my dad, you were Donna." He sighed. He refrained from touching her. "Let me be Harvey, the one you trust to help you get through this."

"Are you saying I'm afraid of being with you now?"

"All I'm saying is that you can't deal with us like this right now. So don't. Just trust me to be here for you."

"Like when you got drunk earlier?"

He shut his eyes and clenched his fists; he knew she wanted to push him away and make him feel just as awful as she did. The virulence of her words should have driven him mad and made him want to just leave her and her pathetic reasoning behind. But she was hurting; the kind of hurt that would feel beyond repair for a while.

She loved her dad just as much as he loved his. This wasn't the time or the place to act like a fool and remind her of how grief made people do stupid things. No matter how scared he was at the thought of losing her, his drinking – at the prospect of going on that date – wasn't of any importance either. He breathed in deeply to make it a point that he would stay put.

"Of course, poor little Donna just lost her dad. She can't hear whatever's on Harvey's goddamn mind," she scoffed, moved away from him towards the bedroom. "You want to stay? Fine…"

He followed after her, taking tentative steps as he observed her open the door. This was the door which led to the last and in fact, only place where he'd ever seen her naked. He didn't think he'd ever seen her this bare – power dress, remnants of dolled-up hair and make-up and sass erased from herself. The arrogant, selfish and raw part of him always hoped he were her everything. Jessica had warned him about this. They were as close as two people could be without being together. But he couldn't replace a father and he certainly didn't want to. She had to know that, right? "Donna–"

"I'm going to bed." She slammed the door shut behind her since cutting her name and his thoughts off didn't seem to be enough for her. He never got that one last look and it wrecked him.

III

Harvey drank half of that bottle of wine. This was a good wine; tipsy enough to feel the alcohol heat his body. It took every fiber of his being not to burst that door open and take her in his arms. But her need to find solace – even if she had to be alone, was superior to his savior-like complex. Sweat dripped out of his pores with every small cry he could hear from her side of the apartment. They were in sync, him trying to find atonement through that bottle instead of her while she, wrestled with loss.

He noticed there was a blanket on the couch. It would have to do for tonight even though the he wouldn't need it, the flush from his drinking made the prospect of additional layers unnecessary.

He'd made a promise to her. The thought of going home hadn't crossed his mind yet. He turned the lights off before moving to the large grey piece of furniture, he took his shoes and socks off. He unbuckled his belt and opened the button of his pants to ease the alcohol-filled pressure on his stomach. He took his shirt off and settled on the couch. He didn't feel drunk enough to sleep. He placed an arm behind his head for support, the weight of his head heavier than a cannonball. Could he make it better? Maybe she was trying to muffle whimpers; tears were probably done burning her eyes by then, numbing her entire face instead. Maybe she'd stopped crying. Maybe he was sick thinking it more painful not seeing her than actually witnessing her crying fit.

He closed his eyes and thought about her. She was seeking comfort from everyone else in her life but him; from her mother whom she rarely saw to Louis. This version of Louis was telling him he was unfit to be with her – that he was incapable of taking care of her, unwilling to see the truth: she didn't belong to him and he'd been toying with her feelings for too long. But then his thoughts reached that dream-like state again in which he would get to see her at work, kicking ass and then disrobe for him at night. He was the knight in shining armor that'd made her see a future in this world. For everyone left in the end. But they had time. And he wanted nothing but for her to be more than just the present. He wanted the dream to turn into their future and just be – as they were, as they are and as they can – until death.

He woke up to the sound of the door creaking open. His eyes shot open in the dead of night. He thought the lack of light should have inconvenienced her. But of course, here being her apartment couldn't have made finding him an issue. Maybe she hadn't expected anything else from him. Maybe she did trust him enough. He felt her sit on the couch by his side. He felt her touch his face and grasped it gently. He trailed his grip over the soft skin of her arm, from the outside in, his hand brushing ever so lightly against her covered breast. He realized she was wearing a tank top as he reached one of the straps. He noticed how it wasn't covering her shoulder and adjusted the thin fabric close to her collarbone.

She heaved a sigh and whispered: "I'm sorry, Harvey." He made some space for her and pulled her towards him, letting half of her body lay on top of him. She placed one of her arms against his chest and he closed his fist against her hand. He felt her head explore the comfort of his chest, wet eyes and lips roaming freely against his skin as she nestled against him. He hesitated moving the arm that was supporting his head; touching her more, wrapping his arm against her frame but didn't for she had found shelter outside the covers of her bed.

He closed his eyes and whispered against her temple. "I'm sorry too."

He was another man and yet, just not any. His heart broke at the thought that he was the most familiar one in her life and yet he'd never been able to tell her how much she meant to him. He wasn't half the man Jim Paulsen was when it came to knowing how to love Donna. But she seemed to think he was the only man who could replace – even for just a moment – the one she would miss for years to come.

DGF

DGF

And that was chapter 3! I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks to all of those who answered the Twitter poll. I really struggled with this chapter and I tried three different directions. But I think this one is the most interesting take I could go with. This isn't going to be a very long fic but hopefully it'll be intense. :) So please review and let me know what you think, how you feel etc. I'll start chapter 4 soon, it won't take me as much time as this chapter did though.

I'd like to thank my precious friend and beta Alternateshadesofblue. I can't wait to maintain our burgeoning co-writing experience with more crazy chapters and insane ideas. I wouldn't have been able to write this chapter without you. I'm sorry I had to prevent you from enjoying the Twitter mania for a moment. I am forever thankful that you allow my writing to grow on its own. Darvey is so on, woman! And even if it isn't, oh well, tonight we got a new smitten look from Harvey, teehee!