A/N: I don't usually justify or explain my writing but for this one I feel like I have to.
There are stories we write because we want to add to the show and stories we write because we want to change the show. This is neither.
Those who know me know how much I love 4x15 and how perfect I think it is; the scene described here is my favorite scene in all of Television. I've never striven to write 4x15 before, simply because I was never interested in imagining something different than what we got. But I've wanted to write something for Darvey inspired by this quote from Richard Siken ever since I first saw it and I was in the mood to write something with this ~vibe and I found some tweets about the candle situation at Donna's place during that scene and this happened.
This is almost a "don't read this fic" A/N, hahah, simply because I wouldn't want anything I've written here to affect even a second of that scene. But, well, my writing is probably not that influential anyway, haha.
The gorgeous quotes at the top and bottom come from the poem "Snow and Dirty Rain" by Richard Siken. Hope you like it :)
"We were in the gold room where everyone finally gets what they want."
- Richard Siken
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She thinks it's the candles.
She never sees Harvey in candlelight, not really, and it's almost devastating how beautiful he looks in it, how soft and open it makes him seem. Harvey always projects this harshness, he has such a strong desire to make the world think of him as hard and rough, thinks it makes him better at his job and better at his life. But Harvey like this, unguarded and light and soft...
This is her favorite version of him.
This wasn't her plan when she started lighting those candles. She was just giddy and excited, drunk on the relief of not having to worry about prison and two-to-five anymore, and she was happy that Harvey had accepted her invitation to come over for dinner so that she could thank him properly for fixing things. She wanted the place to look perfect, upbeat just like she felt, and so she lit every candle she could find and placed them all around the room, on the dinner table, on shelves and side tables, on her coffee table, little specks of light scattered about, shining everywhere she looked.
He arrived with an extra bottle of wine and a smug grin on his face that always means triumph and the effect of the warm light on his face was instant. She felt her stomach flutter as she let him in, and they gravitated naturally to the couch, already opening a bottle and chatting about a call he just had with that kooky old client who always says the weirdest things.
He was clearly feeling as light as her, because his grin was bubbling up with unusual ease and his eyes had a spark to them that rarely came out. They laughed about Louis' tantrum over being unable to reach Norma, about Mike's latest fumble with Robert Zane, about DA's days stories. At first she felt nervous, kept waiting for him to bring up what happened, to chastise her for being reckless or to tell her details of what he had to do to get her out of her mess, and she wasn't ready to hear it.
But it never came. Harvey gave her out after out, stringing one topic into the next, distracting her to the point where she forgot she almost went to jail. And every time he came up with a new anecdote, her heart beat a little faster and a little lighter, finally at peace after days of so much anguish.
Then they moved to the dinner table - her laughter echoed around the kitchen as he stood by the door and asked her if she at least made the salad herself. She watched him closely to see his face light up as she gave him an extra large serving of string peas, his favorites, and they grinned and stole food off each other's plate as Harvey went on one of his rants about Die Hard.
It's crazy how well they know each other, how easy this is, and she has close friends and a good relationship with her parents and even a sister who's known her since she was born and it still doesn't feel like any of them get her as well as Harvey does. It's like they speak a different language to everyone else, one that doesn't even require words because they're just so attuned to each other, it's like they can read each other's minds.
She takes a second to give silent thanks once again that he fixed things, that nothing happened to her, because she has no idea how she would ever survive two years without him, without her best friend, the most important person in her life.
It's true that, for a second there, she wasn't sure. It's not that she doubted that he could get her out, but she just wasn't sure he could put his vanity aside and put her first. She was scared that Wolf was playing him life a fiddle, pressing his buttons impressively well in order to disguise all the rope he was giving Harvey to hang himself - to hang her. She never doubted he would look out for her, she just hadn't realized he saw looking out for her as looking out for himself.
But he did. He told her as much and she saw it with her own eyes, not just in the way he did whatever he did to make it all go away but also in the way he is here now, reminiscing about that god-awful dinner party.
She remembers it like it was yesterday, the way he burst out laughing and tried to hide it behind a cough, which was only made all the more difficult by the fact that the shrimp he was chewing on flew across the room and into the back of her mother's hair. She loves it when she makes him laugh, be it with one of their shared memories or with one of her stories from college, or, even better, with a clever comment or well-placed joke. It makes her feel special, like she has an in with him that not a lot of other people do.
As she brings him more wine and sits down beside him, she takes a breath, and decides it's time.
"Thank you, Harvey."
"You don't need to thank me, you already thanked me," he immediately complains, and it makes her realize he doesn't know how much she appreciates it that he didn't rush her into discussing what happened. So she tells him as much, and he replies he figured she'd bring it up if she wanted to talk about it, and it makes her skin tingle. Harvey is far from the most caring, empathetic person out there, which is why it's so special when he does decide to be.
He goes on, though, telling her he'll never let anything happen to her, that she doesn't need to be scared ever again, and his gaze is so intense on hers and his voice is so sure that her heart skips a beat and she feels so overwhelmed she needs to take a deep breath. She wants to say something back - that she knows that now, feels it with burning certainty, that she'd go to the ends of the Earth for him too - but the moment is risking getting too big and she needs a diversion, a way to get them back on safe footing, so she smirks and teases him, says she thought he didn't do the comfort thing even though she knows very well that he does do it, in his own way.
He jokes back, and there's a moment of lighter silence, but she feels like she has to say more, like she needs to acknowledge properly all he did for her.
"I'm sorry I doubted you," she tells him more seriously, shaking her head in contriteness, needing him to know.
"I'm sorry I snapped at you," he replies, so low she barely hears it, and the fact that they finally and officially made peace settles something inside of her.
Except Harvey doesn't stop there. He swallows and goes on, as if he can't stop the words from coming out even though they're barely more than a whisper.
He tells her he doesn't care if anyone else loses faith in him. Tells her that with her it's different.
Her breath hitches and her mind blanks and it's like she's frozen in time. He's looking at her so timidly, like he's confessing to a sin, and she knows what he's saying, somehow understands the direction he's going even though his words aren't clear. Harvey has his own way of comforting and he has his own way of confessing feelings and she doesn't know exactly what he means but the word more flashes bright in front of her mind's eye like a neon sign.
She's always known she's different than the random women he's dated or slept with, she knows they have a special bond, but for years she'd thought that different meant lacking, as if he saw her in a completely separate category from them, but the way he's sitting here now, looking deep into her eyes even though his own are shy and vulnerable, the way his voice is so delicate and quiet it feels like threads of silk before they're woven into fabric, the way he looks so damn soft and human in her living room... it gives her a tingling suspicion that different means the entire opposite.
Hope and nervousness start blooming in her chest, spreading through her veins like a flame. Harvey's different for her too, everything with him is different, unlike with anyone else in the world, and for years she tried her hardest to ignore that or to pretend it doesn't mean what it actually does, but if he's saying what she thinks he's saying, if he really means-
She doesn't know what to do, feels suspended from reality as she watches every single millimeter of his face for clues on what he might say or do next. The possibility in front of her is daunting, terrifying, but it's also beautiful and exhilarating and, if she's being completely honest with herself, something she's hoped for for a long time.
She's just about to start acclimating to it, a smile unfurling on her lips of its own accord, when Harvey's self-doubt and tendency for avoidance get the better of him and he looks away, throwing her a final glance before looking down. "I should go," he murmurs, completely defeated, and it's not entirely surprising.
What is surprising, though, is that, where she would usually indulge him or let him go or think rationally about pros and cons, this time she just... doesn't want to. She doesn't know if it's been too long of that or if she's feeling emboldened by the victory and the wine or if it's these damn candles but this time she doesn't want to do that. It's just like Harvey to run away and it's just like her to let him but not tonight.
"No, Harvey, you shouldn't," she half-whispers almost unwittingly, before she has time to make a proper decision.
He freezes in place, hand halfway to the coffee table, with a deer-in-headlights look in his eyes as he looks back to her. "Donna," he argues implicitly, the word coming out with that inflection he uses when she's being unreasonable, and she knows, she knows it all, she just doesn't care.
"Just...," she trails off, searching for words. "Just don't go," she pleads again after a moment. She doesn't know what she looks like but she suspects it's a jarring contrast to him, because while he is so clearly terrified of where she's going with this, she just feels an inexplicable sense of wonder, a desire to finally open a door she's kept locked for so long she no longer remembers what's behind it.
Harvey opens and closes his mouth, clearly caught as unaware as her by her words. It must be confusing for him, this sort of devil-may-care attitude from the one who's always been the more rational and careful out of the two of them. He squints, trying to read some hidden meaning behind her expression or find some sort of catch in her words.
She has nothing to offer him, no explanation, no "why now", no real reason why this time she decided to forge ahead when every other time before this she was happy to turn back with him. It's just what it is, and the simplicity of this realization is so absurd given their history it's almost funny.
He's still working hard to decipher her, she can practically see the cogs turning in his head, and she doesn't have anything to say but maybe she can just show him.
Without giving herself too much time to second-guess this decision, she leans forward, cupping his jaw. Harvey tenses, completely still, but she doesn't stop, closing the space between them until their faces are an inch apart. And then she inhales all the courage she can muster and bridges the final gap, gently touching her lips to his.
Her adrenaline spikes and she can hear her own pulse, hammering wildly inside of her. It's ridiculous that a kiss this chaste should cause this much of an uproar inside of her, but she knows it's not the kiss, it's Harvey, and the fact that this is finally happening.
After a brief moment, she pulls back, looking at him to check his reaction. He's completely stunned, the ghost of a crease still between his brows even though now he's more shocked than anything else.
She feels a tinge of nervousness but doesn't let it deter her, leaning in once again instead. This time the kiss is a little more intentional, an attempt to show him what they could have, to convince him - to close him. She goes slow, capturing his bottom lip and sucking on it gently as her thumb swipes across his cheekbone. He responds a bit more, his own lips molding to hers, and she feels a spark even from that tiny movement.
Her other hand frames his face as she kisses him again and Harvey finally relaxes, sighing against her and kissing her back, and she gets shivers where his palm touches her waist.
When they part, Harvey frowns a little again, staring intently at her. "Are you sure about this?" he asks, clearly hesitant.
Donna chuckles silently, incredulously. "No," she deadpans almost humorously. "I just... I don't know," she shrugs a shoulder, "Tonight has just been really nice and it made me wonder what this could look like."
He tips his head sideways, his look almost patronizing, and she rolls her eyes internally.
"Why did you say you should go?" she asks him before he can say anything else.
"Because I don't want to complicate things," he replies firmly, clearly thinking that's exactly what she's doing, but she doesn't let his attitude deter her.
"Harvey, things between us are already complicated," she argues, certain of her point, "Look at everything I've done for you. Look at what you've done for me - you were ready to commit perjury today. What do you think that says about us?"
He stares at her some more, war waging inside of him, and she waits with bated breath until finally, blessedly, Harvey swallows and leans in, taking the lead on the kiss this time. She opens instantly for him, thrilled that he seems to have been convinced, and she's not even entirely sure of what she said and if it translates all she's feeling and if it solves all their problems, all she knows is that it was enough to make up his mind and give this a go, and she's ecstatic from the amount of times she's hoped for this exact situation.
His free hand comes up to tangle in her hair and hold her neck in place so he can deepen the kiss and she can hardly believe what's happening but she doesn't give herself room to overthink it, instead pulling him closer to her. He tastes like the wine he'd been drinking, and it's intoxicating to feel the slide of his tongue against hers.
She forgets for a moment that Harvey and her have such a complicated history, and right then it feels simple, just her and him making out after a date just like a million other couples out there, and that unexpected sensation makes her heart float.
They kiss until they can't anymore and part with matching pants, regarding each other silently. In the short span of time since he told her she's different, it has become clear to her that she doesn't want to have anything less than this with him: him and her, kissing in her living room, letting their feelings roam free, not just tonight but every night after that, for the rest of her life. It's not a novel idea, but it had never burned as brightly inside of her as it does now, and she's willing to do whatever it takes to make it come true.
"Are you really willing to risk everything for this?" Harvey asks her quietly, still cautious, and the question should sound daunting but it doesn't.
"This is everything, Harvey," she tells him, absolutely sure, and she knows that maybe for him they already had everything, but she is absolutely sure that once he lets himself fully embrace the possibility of this, he'll realize that what they've had so far is only a fragment of everything they can still live together.
She takes his hand, looking deep into his eyes and begging him to see, and kisses his palm tenderly. His face softens and he looks at where his hand meets her cheek with something she can only describe as yearning. He cups her jaw, looks into her eyes again and it's almost like fog lifting, the way something in his gaze clears up.
And then he kisses her again, all in, body and soul, and their feelings mix like electricity sparking inside of them. He tugs on her legs, still curled up on the couch, and brings her closer until she's straddling him, and the feeling of being this close to him, of their bodies together again, even through clothing, is heavenly.
She pours every last second of love she's felt for him into this kiss, hoping he can understand everything she'd never been brave enough to say out loud before, and the way his hands cling to her back and her hips, roaming and almost desperate, makes her think he has a similar intention.
Later on they'll move to her bedroom; they'll undress each other, and explore hidden parts of each other's bodies; they'll come together as one and they'll relive the memories from that other night over a decade ago, but they'll also make new, better memories. She'll fall asleep on his chest and he'll stay up for almost twenty minutes afterwards, just watching her, caressing her hair and wondering how he got so lucky.
All of that is to come and she can feel butterflies in her stomach from the anticipation she feels for it, but she's in no rush to end this moment right here, the final stretch before everything changes.
This moment feels pure, and whole, and it feels like the perfect amount of communion of their feelings for each other without all the more that's going to happen next. It's the best thing that's ever happened to her, by far the best feeling she's ever felt, and she knows for sure, just from this singular moment, that they're finally going to have everything, and that it's going to last forever.
.
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"We were in the gold room where everyone finally gets what they want, so I said What do you want, sweetheart? and you said Kiss me."