Prompt #39 by carly_a8: "After the "we both know it's really strawberries and whipped cream" scene, Donna and Harvey go their separate ways but they both can't stop thinking about the conversation and find themselves massively affected by it and the memories coming up. Writer's choice if they end up at their respective homes alone to do something about the built up pressure or if they'll end up together (bonus points in this case). "
It's late when his flight from Boston touches down in New York, and he should be heading home immediately if he wants to be in the office first thing tomorrow like Harvey told her hours ago, but he ends up at the firm anyway.
As hard as it was in some moments, having spent the last couple of days with his family, it reiterated the reality of him not having that of his own. He has his friends and work family, but it's still an empty house he's coming home to every night, and the thought has been nagging at him all evening.
Usually, he'd work late to avoid those thoughts, seek her out for a quick chat, a drink, or maybe even order them take-out. Anything to prolong the eventual reality check, and thus, he finds himself wandering the hallways of the fiftieth floor.
It's deserted, and he should have known it to be, but a little - no, a big - part of him had hoped she'd still be there.
And somehow, she still is because every single corner of the office has a memory stashed of her. Harvey stalls near her office. The lights are off, and he stares at the accumulation of all her accomplishments for a moment - a smile spreading across his face.
He's so damn proud of her, Donna.
His Donna.
He's been thinking about her a lot, more than usual. More than he has been allowed to over the years, and in the name of self-protection, he really shouldn't, not after she told him she didn't feel anything, but the truth is, he feels it all.
Feels everything.
"That's not the same as feeling anything,"
It's what she had yelled at him. His heart knows better now. He knows that any physical reaction his body has is not just because she looks smoking hot or says something enticing. It's the entire package, the possibility of a future, domesticity, everything he rationally knows he'll never have with her and yet.
It's the only thing that does it for him lately.
Sure, he thinks about the other time. How could he not when it was the only moment he could call her his. But his dreams are different, soft and gentle. It's about the morning after, with the redhead bringing him a cup of coffee, the dinner before, just a gentle kiss or a smile she flashes him. The way she fixes his tie and tells him to win big.
Shit.
He feels his body react, and he swallows thickly. Shaking his head, he tears his gaze away from her office and marches down to his own in need of a drink.
He spots it right away when he gets there and flicks on the light. The bottle is in the middle of his desk, a glass right next to it, and only one person could have placed it there. Only one person truly knows him better than he knows himself.
And it only makes his body ache even more.
He closes the distance to his desk in three significant strides anyway. Examining his favourite bottle, he notices a note tucked under it with the redhead's handwriting on it.
You are a good man, Harvey. I am so proud of you.
Just twelve words, but he hears them in his mind in her soft voice. He knows how she would look at him while saying so, the tilt of her head and the genuine smile she'd flash him.
If he closes his eyes, he can picture her right there, and it doesn't matter how pure the gesture is or how warm it makes him feel on the inside because his body has a different way of responding.
Feeling himself strain against his black jeans, he downs the two fingers' worth of scotch in a large gulp, but it does little to ease the tension in his bones. In fact, it does the exact opposite. He groans a little and thinks of anything and everything but her, but nothing helps, and he drops down in defeat on his couch, willing his arousal to settle down.
It only twitches instead.
He peers over his shoulder at the hallway and then at his watch. It's close to midnight, late enough that even the cleaners have gone home by now, and a dangerous thought crosses his mind - he's alone.
"Don't," he mutters to himself, but his body reacts differently, and he shifts over the couch. Involuntarily creating a bit of friction against his erection. He can't help but moan.
He shouldn't, he really shouldn't. He shouldn't even entertain thoughts about doing so, here of all places – the one place at the core of their decision to put it out of their minds and never mention it again.
Except they did. The last time it happened was in this office – not even a week ago. Never in a million years would Harvey have thought a less-than-appropriate work conversation with Louis would have resulted in it. But he'd felt compelled to help his friend, give him some genuine advice, but then he'd spotted her lingering outside his office. His gaze drifted off to her for a second before he changed his answer and named the first other red fruit that came to mind.
Tomatoes
He chuckles to himself and closes his eyes in the process, but it's a mistake because now he pictures her there. Sauntering into his office in that figure-hugging blue dress, asking him the question they both already knew the answer too - her smile giving it away.
Fuck. Harvey looks down at his crotch. It's now becoming painful, and he knows he's past the point of it calming down.
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.
"Shit, shit, shit," she mutters, going through her bag yet again in search of her keys. She could have sworn she'd thrown them in there - except the little bastard has grown legs because it's nowhere to be found.
"You can stop here," Donna tells the cabbie when it pulls up in front of the lobby. "Please wait. I'll be down in a few minutes."
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Sucking in a deep breath, Harvey presses a foot down on his coffee table as he shifts over his couch until he slumps against the cushions. The bulge in his pants becomes even more prominent now. He unclasps his belt, and when pulling down his zipper already feels like a stroke, he knows there's no way of stopping now – and he groans loudly upon the first contact of his hand against the base of his shaft.
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Impatiently tapping her foot against the floor as the elevator takes her to the fiftieth floor, she chuckles as a weird thought crosses her mind. She swears she could smell him, his cologne lingering in the air, but surely, her nose must be playing tricks on her cause there's no way he'd have gone to the office this late.
She shakes her head and pushes away the thought. She walks over to her office, spots her missing keys in a beat and snatches them off her desk. She's halfway out of the door when she spots it, the light coming from his office.
He's there, after all.
The cabbie is waiting downstairs, but her feet carry her in the opposite direction. Her pace increases with each step she takes, she suddenly needs to see him. She needs to know why he came here, needs to know if he's okay, needs –
"Donna."
She smiles when she hears him say her name, and her greeting is on the tip of her tongue when Donna turns in the door opening, but nothing more than an "Oh, god," leaves her lips as she's stopped in her tracks at the sight in front of her.
His imagination suddenly sounds too loud, too real, and his eyes flash open in a beat, his gaze locking with hers, and he's sure her shocked expression matches his own. There's a moment where neither moves, speaks, or breathes. He only breaks from his daze when he catches her gaze slipping just before she turns away, and Harvey remembers he's holding his erection in his hand.
He quickly averts his gaze, too, shifting and scrambling around to grab anything to cover himself up with. A pillow eventually does the trick. For any normal person, this interaction would be equivalent to a cold shower, but not for him. His cheeks feel hot, and he's confident his complexion is close to the colour of her hair. He wants this couch to swallow him whole and pretend this never happened.
But when he hears the softest snicker coming from her, he realises she's still rooted on her spot. Staring at the floor, her cheeks are just as flushed as his own, but he can't help but cough once, mumbling an apology.
She bites down on her bottom lip, slowly lifts her gaze and takes him in. The way he's sitting there, pillow pressed down on his lap by one arm, his jaw set, his gaze is apologetic, and she should find this entire encounter awkward, but somehow it isn't. It never is when it comes to them.
"Sorry," she speaks then, a hint of a smile palpable. "I saw the lights on and wanted to say hello. I didn't know you were busy."
He stares at her momentarily, unsure what to say – it ends up just being her name.
"I should go," she whispers, motioning to the door with a flick of her wrist. She adjusts the bag strap on her arm, reaches inside and pulls out a pack of tissues. "I'll uhm… "She pauses, tossing it onto the lawyer's coffee table. "Let you," she continues, can't help but signal his situation with her hand gestures. "Finish."
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With a deep sigh, Donna tosses and turns for the umpteenth time that night. She's been on edge since coming home. First, a chuckle had escaped her, and she'd merely laughed the entire situation off with a shake of her head because everything else would send her on a tailspin.
But now, lying in her bed, every time she closes her eyes, she can picture him clear as day - Sitting there in his office, legs spread and his hand wrapped around his cock. Pumping slowly, pleasure visible on his face and her name rolling off of his tongue.
Her name.
He'd moaned her name.
"Argh," she groans, burying her face in her pillows as she rolls over once again, feeling the aching pulse between her legs increase. She rubs her thighs together, trying to but not successfully relieving a little pressure.
She's no stranger to masturbation and has brought herself to completion more times than she can count. Whether it's just her fingers or her trusty toy collection, she always manages to get the job done. She follows just one rule and has followed it all of these years. Or at least, she triesto follow - most of the time.
She does not think of him - of them.
Even if she remembers it all too well.
But ever since she noticed how he caught her eye, how slowly he swallowed and then said tomatoes instead of what they both know to be the truth when she overheard him talking to Louis, she hasn't been able to not think of him.
Even if she teased him about it, she did not think he'd admit to it.
Strawberries and whipped cream.
That day, it had been just words, a verbal confirmation of a memory stored far away in her mind. But now she's seen him again. In all of his six-inch glory, fully erect within his hand.
A sight enough to make any woman quiver, let alone one who knows from experience what he can do with it. How it feels in her hands, her mouth, her –
Donna groans and shakes her head. Willing the memories away, but they don't go. She feels close to coming just by picturing it, and her mind doesn't seem to stop doing so, no matter if she closes her eyes or not.
She shifts again, her whole body tense and in need of release and deep down, she knows it doesn't matter how long she'll fight her mind because she will give in and get herself off thinking of him.
Just like she did yesterday and the day before that.
She shakes her head as if giving herself one last warning, but her hand trails down her frame all the same - caressing her stomach until she slips her hand inside her panties. She comes undone within a minute, a lazy smile spreading over her face as she strokes herself through her orgasm.
She would have fallen asleep quickly then, except her phone buzzes on her nightstand, and she rolls over to reach for it all too willingly cause there's only one person who messages her in the middle of the night.
Sorry you had to see that.
Still on a high from her ministrations, she chuckles and shakes her head. She isn't sorry, far from it - a part of her even thinks it shouldn't have taken twelve years.
She's got no clue what that thought means for her, him, and them - especially after she so dramatically told him she didn't feel anything after kissing 's the biggest lie she had ever told him; she can't say for sure if his answer was one, too.
He said he doesn't want more, doesn't want everything, and after twelve years, she should know better, but a part of her will always hope for something. Surely, between everything and nothing, there must be something.
"Something," she whispers to herself.
They could have something. It's a bold thought, and it's an even bolder text she sends him back.
Nothing I hadn't seen before.
It takes a good minute for his reply to come in.
Are we good?
Donna smiles at her phone and pictures him then. He's not sitting in his office, stroking himself, this time, but instead curled up on his couch or in his bed, just like her, holding onto his phone, waiting for her answer.
Deep down, she knows he wants her to tell them they're okay, that they'll always be fine.
We are.
Two simple words, but with all the highs and lows they've been through in the past two years, this situation is on a whole other level. Donna knows she'd want no other answer from him if the situation were the other way around. She puts her phone away, smiles once and does her best not to think about him seeing her like that.
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Donna comes in extra early the following morning, but he still beats her to it. She knows it the second she sports the bouquet sitting on her desk. A big smile tugs on her lips as she walks to her desk, taking in the arrangement of her favourite flowers.
The note that comes with it contains just one word of five letters. But Dona has seen his handwriting every day for the better part of a decade; she knows every slant of every letter. She knows when he is in a rush, when he has had too much coffee, or when he takes his time.
And entirely of its own volition, her heart skips a beat as she rereads the simple word, every letter written down with intent. There was no need to apologise; he had already done so twice last night.
"You got a secret admirer?" Samantha's voice wakes her from her daze.
Even though she's the only one who can recognise his handwriting, Donna still hides the little card under a stack of papers on her desk before she turns around to face her friend. She smiles and shrugs, adding a little dramatic flair to her statement. "Who wouldn't admire me?"
The blonde looks at her curiously, and then, as her brows draw together, a grin spreads over her face. "You know who it's from."
Donna shifts on her spot, steadying herself with a hand on her desk. "I said no such thing."
Samantha laughs at that, rolls her eyes and gives the redhead a look that says she doesn't believe a word of what she's saying. She points at the flowers and then at the redhead. "I'll figure it out."
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He almost loses his voice when she steps into his office at the end of the day. It's their first in-person interaction since last night, and he's thought about this inevitability all day. Thought of all the different things to say to her, but now that she is standing there, looking as beautiful as ever, all he manages to croak out is a simple: "Hey."
"Hey," she answers in return, taking one more step into his office. "You didn't have to get me flowers."
"I know," he admits. "But I wanted to. Look, Donna –"
"Harvey," she holds up her hand, cutting him off from whatever it was he was going to say. "It's fine. We're fine. I wasn't supposed to be there."
He draws his lips together and nods once, and he should let it go when she turns around and takes the out she's giving him, but his mouth works faster than his brain. "You're not going to ask me why?"
She stalls in the door opening, hand on the frame as she looks back over her shoulder at him. "We all have needs." It's a simple answer and comes with a shrug, but the silent conversation between them exposes so much more.
He prefers his hand and the memory of her over some random woman to scratch an itch.
And the gesture he runs into the following day, a box of tissues with strawberries on the box in the middle of his coffee table, can only be interpreted as encouragement.
The sight is both exciting and nerve-wracking, and a part of him knows it's best to ignore it. To see it for what it is, simply Donna teasing him a little more about the situation.
But he's never been good at letting things go when his curiosity is peaked, and he's on his feet and looking for her without a second thought. When he doesn't find her in her office, he continues down to the partner's kitchen. He spots her red hair from down the hall. He can hear Louis' voice coming from too, and years ago, that would have been reason enough to turn around and get his coffee at another time.
But before he can do so, the duo notices him, and when Donna smiles at him, he does his absolute best to ignore how his stomach feels like it's suddenly housing a dozen butterflies.
"Ladies," he greets them both, earning a soft snicker from her and a growl from Louis. The latter leaves it at that as he continues his spiel about whatever he had for dinner last night.
Pouring himself another cup of coffee, Harvey does his best to listen, honestly - answering with a simple burger when Louis asks him what he had for dinner before the two rattle on further about some recipe from last week's newspaper - but he's hyper-aware of her presence.
The way she's simply sitting there, smiling brightly and chatting amicably as if she didn't just leave a box of tissues on his desk this morning. His thoughts drift off again, and only when he hears her mutter something about Thai food does he turn to look at her again.
It's a mistake, and he knows it, nearly choking on his coffee when she tells Louis that she had strawberry pie for dessert- with whipped cream.
Louis turns to his fellow name partner, eying him curiously. Harvey merely brings his hand to his chest and coughs twice as his gaze narrows in on her. Her smirk gives away that she said this on purpose.
"Can I get the recipe?"
"What?"
Both turn to look at him. Donna raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow, daring him to say anything else. She keeps looking at him, though, when she answers. "Sorry, it's a family recipe I can't share."
If you were ever lucky enough to have me, you wouldn't want to share.
He bobs his head up and down, takes a sip of his coffee, and walks over to the kitchen island. "Weren't you allergic anyway?"
"I am," Louis admits, "but Sheila loves them. Anyway, we have a meeting to go to."
Donna smiles at her friend, waits for him to leave the partner's kitchen, and then shoots Harvey a look. "How do you even know he's allergic?"
He opens his mouth to answer, but she's faster. "You messed with his prunie once, didn't you? Just like you did with his flowers."
He wants to protest because while he had known about the flowers, he honestly did not know about the red fruit. Merely thought the other lawyer didn't like the taste. He offers her an apologetic smile and watches her shake her head.
A moment of silence falls between them, where his gaze locks with hers; it reminds him of those late nights at the D.A.'s office. Where they had one too many to drink, and she'd laugh and tease him endlessly, and he'd hopelessly tried to shoot his shot.
He does so now, too.
"Anyway," he presses then, leaning down on the kitchen island she's sitting at, closing the distance between them a bit more, even though there's no one around within earshot. "Back to your dessert."
She gives him a mischievous look; she'd brought it up on purpose. She left that box on his table for a reason, after a silly thought that had crossed her mind the night before did not let up. She was uncertain if he'd take the bait.
"You-" he pauses, unable to get the word out.
Donna chuckles, placing her hand on his forearm as she leans in. "You're not the only one who deserves a little trip down memory lane, Harvey. I have needs, too."
Harvey gulps at that. His arm tingles, and his jaw sets as he takes in her words. Momentarily rooted on his spot, he misses her smirk over her cup of coffee.
Donna slides off of the barstool and turns to look at him over her shoulder. "Come on, we have a partner's meeting."
"Yeah," he breathes out his acknowledgement. "Just uhm… give me a second."
She eyes him up and down, chuckling once more. Hand in the doorframe, she leans back into the kitchen and whispers: "stop picturing me naked."
He nearly growls at that, muttering how that's not helping, but when he turns to look in her direction again, he sees the sway of her hips with every step she takes. He takes a deep breath, downs his coffee and thinks of anything and everything to settle his heartbeat.
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When he makes it to the conference room, everyone is already seated, and the only place left is opposite Donna. It's where he'd usually sit, yet it feels like it was somehow done on purpose this time. Especially when he feels the redhead's gaze narrowing in on him, his groin in particular, and when he catches her licking her lips, he nearly chokes on his breathing.
"You okay there?" Samantha calls out, eyeing him curiously.
"Fine," he grounds out, trying his best to keep his voice steady as he pulls back the chair and sits down. Putting on his poker face, he nods at his fellow name partners and then pretends to return to business. "What did I miss?"
"Nothing much," Alex answers at the same time Donna slides a sheet of paper with the agenda over the table towards him. He makes the mistake of looking up and thus straight down her cleavage, the grin on her face giving away she did this on purpose.
He grasps onto the paper and inspects it.
"First up is the R&R merger."
It's not even Donna speaking, but there's something in the way the last word rolls off of Samantha's tongue that makes him realise something is up. He also knows better than to redirect his gaze towards her or the redhead, so he stares at his sheet instead.
"What is it about?" He asks, and when Donna answers, he has no choice but to face her.
"Alex's client, Reilly LLC, wants to merge with Rowe. The latter is a promising up-and-coming company entering the branch, and Reilley wants to squash them before they expand to their projected potential."
"Right," he mutters.
"It's going to require a hands-on approach," Donna continues, "Louis authorised all first and second-year associates to help out."
He swallows once, nods and looks around the table, finding all of them nodding and taking notes. The entire meeting continues like this: he contributes little and doesn't look at Donna again, but every time she speaks, he swears he hears a double entendre put there specifically to rile him up.
And it's working.
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Harvey's the last one to get up after the meeting. He is waiting for the redhead to round the table before he does so. His hand catches her wrist, making her halt, and when he breathes out her name, he lets go.
She stalls next to him, too close for her own good, and she feels the playful tension between them make place for that of another kind.
"Donna," he drawls out her name, staring at her momentarily as if he's still trying to find the words. "What is going on?"
She draws in a breath. She should have known this question would come. She should have known that Harvey would corner her sooner or later and demand what the hell was going on. She also knows better than pretending she doesn't know what he refers to. She's pushed it too far for that.
And quite frankly, she doesn't want to back down, not since the particular thought has crossed her mind.
"I uhm… I was thinking we could have dinner together."
Her answer takes him aback for a moment. Slightly shaking his head, he rocks back and forth on his spot. "You want to go for dinner?"
"Well," she starts, suddenly feeling very hot. She fans herself and looks away, but it's to no avail. She knows Harvey will never let her get away with whatever the hell kind of answer this was. She leans in then, lowering her voice when she speaks. "Not that kind of dinner."
He slowly repeats her words as if their meaning still hasn't landed yet, and when it does, his lips part. "You mean."
She lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug. "Since you were thinking about having tomatoes, and I'm thinking about having tomatoes, maybe we could have tomatoes together."
He gapes at her, brings his hand to his collar and pulls on his tie. Swallowing thickly, he peers over his shoulder to the hallway, suddenly feeling as if everyone is watching them. As if this is a trick question and there's only one answer to give - to decline. To be the one to call whatever the hell this is off and pretend it never happened.
It's worked for the better part of twelve years. Why wouldn't it work now?
But when he turns to look at her again, he sees genuine anticipation in her eyes. He should know better than to give in than to agree to whatever she suggests. If their line were blurry before, it would become dotted now. Only half there.
He thinks his brain might be shortcutting because there's no way they're having this conversation. Not after all these years or the ups and downs they've been through lately. He has no clue what this all means or could mean, but he finds himself nodding in agreement as if he could do anything but agree because he's never been one to say no to her. So he swallows thickly, his voice low when he speaks. "And when were you thinking about having this uhm … dinner?"
"Sometime later this week."
He repeats her answer in his mind, mulling over its implications, and he's about to ask her what this all means, but by the time he finds the words, she's out of the conference room, and he catches her walking by. The simple sway of her hips is enough to send a shiver down his spine, and he has no clue how he will make it to sometime later that week, whenever the hell that may be.
Harvey feels his phone vibrate then; pulling it out of his pocket, he peers down at the screen – this Friday night blocked out by her. When he looks back up, he catches her smug grin before she winks, and knows he's fucked.
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When the clock strikes seven p.m. on Friday night, he can´t sit still any longer for the life of him. He´s been on edge all day. His leg started bouncing about an hour ago, and now, now he just can´t wait any longer. Shutting down the draft he´s pretending to read for half an hour, he closes his laptop and rolls back his chair.
And when he stands, he feels a little dizzy but excited. Oh, so excited.
His first steps out of his office are hesitatingly though, peering down the hallway left and right. He sees little movement, but he knows she'd want to be sure they´re the only ones left in the office.
Swallowing thickly, he turns to the right and passes the first office next to his. The lights are off, and it looks deserted. Usually, it would have him wondering what kind of cases his colleagues are working on, but now he can only grin. He continues his path on the right side of the fiftieth floor, stalling near the library and bullpen stairs. It´s been a while since he´s set foot in both locations, but he makes his way down anyway.
And to his horror, all first and second-year associates are still hunched over papers. He pulls out his phone and checks the time. It´s only a quarter past seven now, and if all of these young lawyers fear Louis as much as the last batch did, none of them will be leaving the office before nine or even ten.
He groans at the mere thought. There´s no way he can wait that long. Not after all these years.
"Mister Specter," an associate's voice wakes him from his thoughts. "Anything we can do for you?"
Leave.
"I'm sorry?" the young lawyer asks then.
Fuck. Did he say that out loud? He scrapes his throat, wrecks his brain and then fakes a smile. "I said it's Friday night. Surely, all of you have better places to be than here at the office."
"Uhm?" the associate stares up at him in confusion, and not even ten seconds later, five others are doing so too.
"Sir?" A second one asks. "Are you sure? We're working on the R&R merger – "
He inhales deeply and pinches the bridge of his nose. Surely, it should not be this hard. Wrong word – he shakes his head, trying to clear his mind. It should not be this difficult to get rid of a bunch of employees, right? Donna would - Nope, do not think about her now.
He shifts on his spot and exhales slowly. "I just gave you all a night off," he answers. "You either take it or don't bother returning at all."
He doesn't wait around to hear the round of gasps travel through the room, nor does he stay to watch the lot of them scramble their stuff together. No, instead, he pulls out his phone and makes his way down to the lobby with a big grin spread across his face.
He thought waiting here for the delivery guy from Gianno's would be easier than in his office or anywhere on the fiftieth floor for that matter. Still, now, as he's standing in the lobby, he comes to realise every corner of this place reminds him of her.
"It was a kiss, Harvey. We've done more than that."
They're about to do more than that.
He tears his gaze away from the spot where she'd been standing, paces along the edge for a minute or two, and then dashes towards the door the second he sees the delivery guy enter the lobby. He tosses the guy a fifty-dollar bill, not bothering to collect any change as he makes his way back to the elevators in quick strides.
.
She senses him before he's even set foot in her office. Keeping her gaze down on her screen, she smiles and waits for him to enter. The tension between them becomes palpable immediately.
"Harvey."
"Donna," he pronounces her name in the same teasing tone she used, stepping into her office at last. He swallows when she looks up at him at last.
"What did you do?"
The question is enough to have him halt in his spot; he stares at her momentarily, then peers over his shoulder and back at her. He even glances at his watch, ensuring it is indeed Friday.
She watches him in silence, smiling knowingly and she turns her chair just so. "Sending all associates home, really?"
He lets out an audible breath but shrugs all the same. He stops right in front of her desk. "How do you even know about that?"
"One of them stopped by to ask if leaving now wouldn't still result in getting fired later on."
Harvey shakes his head in disbelief. "You'd think they'd take a name partner's word for granted."
"Ooh," Donna laughs. "I think we all know who's really in charge here."
She eyes him cautiously afterwards, the way he presses his lips together and then nods. She can't help but take him in. He has taken off his grey suit jacket, his sleeves are rolled up and she can see his muscles flex under his shirt as he moves.
He looks gorgeous.
And she should feel furious at the way he's making her feel. It was her idea, and they haven't even started yet, but just looking at him now has her weak in the knees. His intense gaze isn't helping either, so she focuses on the box he's holding behind his back.
"What's that?" she motions to it with a bob of her head, but the reflection of her office walls and the smell already gave it away long ago. She needs the distraction all the same.
"Ooh," he moves, bringing the pizza box before him. "I got us a pizza with those stupid yellow tomatoes you like." He walks over to her couch and sits down, opening the cardboard box to show her he is serious about the tomatoes.
It's not unusual for Harvey to order her favourite food or order it for himself when she declines a dessert. It's always how it's been, but the fact that he chose this over all the other options just so he could mention tomatoes has her chuckle, and her toes curl simultaneously.
She takes a deep breath and swivels her desk chair around. Pouring both of them a glass of scotch she hands his over before sitting down next to him on the couch. They've done this plenty of times, yet everything about it is new.
It's her office, her smaller couch, and the promise of what's next hanging in the air. It's them, and yet it's not.
"You know," she muses, "You can't just send away all associates every time we –"
He turns to look at her in a beat, the unspoken questions clear in his eyes. Are we going to do this again?
She tilts her head to the side and shrugs. It's not an answer, and yet it is. Her previous statement said enough already.
Harvey swallows thickly and nods. He swivels the alcohol around in his glass and raises it in a silent toast. She matches his movement, her gaze meeting his for longer than a second for the first time that night, and both of them have to look away quickly after – distracting themselves with the pizza.
They eat most of it in silence.
With two slices left, she reaches for another one, her fingers accidentally brushing against his as he does the same. She flinches, fingers curling into her hand, and she glances at him again. He's not looking at her, but her gaze drifts off to his lips all the same.
She feels an overwhelming sense to kiss him. To just lean in and close the distance, but she has no clue where that will leave them. Her suggestion earlier this week is already bold enough to shake things up between them, and she still isn't sure whether it will be fine or result in permanent damage.
She catches him shift beside her, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he keeps his gaze directed on anything but her, yet she feels his eyes all over her. His gaze explores every inch of her skin, burning as if it were his touch – the one thing they're not supposed to do tonight, yet she craves it more than anything.
She pushes herself to stand, her hand accidentally landing on his knee as she does so, and she hears him hiss at the contact. Pulling her hand back, she creates a little more distance between them by putting the coffee table between them.
"You okay there?"
"Yeah," he breathes. "It's just. I –"
The nerves kick in, then, about this entire ordeal. Picking at her thumb, she turns to watch him. When Harvey looks up at her, and her gaze meets his, she sees the fire in his eyes and can practically feel the desire pulsing through his veins, igniting her own even more.
"Fuck Donna," he says, her name close to a groan. "I've been – " he pauses, somehow unable to get the word over the tip of his tongue, but he drops his gaze down all the same. "All goddamn day."
She can't help but look at his crotch, seeing him strained against his pants, and she shifts one leg behind the other. If he notices her movement, he doesn't comment on it or show it – ever the gentleman, and it only makes her want him even more.
They stare at one another for a second, letting the gravity of it all sink in. They may have agreed on this a few days ago, but it's still a giant leap from their status quo. Where the previous days were filled with teasing and anticipation, now that the moment is there, it's a lot to process.
"So," he breathes then, breaking the silence between them.
"So," she parrots slowly, grasping her hands together. She can't help but gulp when Harvey gets up, and his desire becomes even more evident, not that it makes it easier to look away. Anything but really.
"You should go to your office," she says then.
"What?"
They hadn't talked about the logistics of it all. Apart from there not being any sex, any kisses or any touches –it would just be two friends getting themselves off at the same time. But now, being here in the same room feels too much. It feels too raw. She isn't sure they'd survive doing that while seeing one another. She's afraid just seeing one another wouldn't be enough. Afraid she'd cave and reach over, touch him, kiss him and beg him for more- for everything.
She's afraid he'd decline – he told her once before he doesn't want more.
"Harvey." It's just his name, not so much as a dismissal as a promise. But she bobs her head to add to her previous statement, and he nods once. Then, he wordlessly obliges.
She lets out a breath and sits back down in her office chair. Her hands are shaking, and her breathing is unsteady. It would be so easy to call it off now, to pretend it was just a bad idea and they stopped it in time. Except she's spent twelve years stopping little fires from burning their world down, shutting him down whenever his words so much as alluded to bringing them up. Pretending to be happy when he was with someone else, pretending to be happy when she was with someone else. Donna just cannot do it anymore; she wants him, and if this is the only way she can have him, she will enjoy every second of it.
She picks up her phone and calls him.
He feels his phone vibrate in his pants pocket, groaning slightly at the object. Surely, there could not be a worse time for a client to have an emergency, could there? He has half a mind to let it go to voice mail, but he pauses and brings it out anyway.
Her picture smiles up at him from his screen.
"Donna," he greets her, a little unsure. She 's about to tell him whether it is over now. Or not.
"Are you in your office yet?"
He peers at the door six feet before him, then back over his shoulder at her door. "No."
"Walk faster."
Two words, a clear command, but he gets the gist. It's still on. He increases his pace, "I´m trying, do you know how hard –"
"Ooh, I saw."
He groans loudly and can hear her chuckle on the other side of the line. He's sure he's out of sight, but he can feel her eyes on him anyway. "Donna."
"Are you in your office now?" She asks again, but she's heard the door open and close, and she's heard him drop down on a chair. And she bites on her lip, picturing him sitting in his office.
He hums, eyes closing for a second as he finds the strength to ask. "Donna?"
"Yeah."
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
"I am." She whispers. "It's all I've been able to think about this week."
"Fuck, me too."
"Did you, you know?" she asks then. She knows he does from time to time. Harvey admitted as much, and she's seen it once, but now she needs to know if he thought about this while doing that.
"No," he admits. It's the truth. "I wanted to –" he pauses and shakes his head. Not sure what he was going to say anyway, but he hears her hum, and he knows she gets it. She gets him, always. "I woke up so hard this morning, Donna. I nearly came when I saw you just walking by in that dress."
She grins, looking down at the green dress she saved for this day.
"Don't think I don't know you did that on purpose."
"What do you mean?"
"First, that blue one you wore to the partner's meeting, and then yesterday, that black dress that was so tight it made me wonder if you could even wear anything underneath it."
"I couldn't."
"Shit," he groans. The mental image that brings along makes him twitch inside his pants. He runs his hand down over his front, palming himself and spreads his legs a little wider. "And now?"
Donna swivels in her chair, kicks off her shoes, and props her feet on the windowsill. Then she drags a hand over her thigh, using the split in her dress for access as she trails a finger up her inner thigh and over her slit. "Not anymore."
He hears her inhale sharply, and even if such a simple sound would be enough for his imagination to run wild, he doesn't want to guess. He wants to know. "Are you touching yourself?"
"Aren't you?"
She hears him cuss, and then she hears the sound of a zipper being pulled down, the ruffling of fabric and then a moan. She can't see anything, but she knows he's wrapped his hand around his cock by now, probably giving the tip a soft squeeze – and when she closes her eyes, she sees him sitting there again- on his couch, pleasuring himself.
She opens her eyes in a slight rush of panic and peers over her shoulder once. She knows they're the only ones left in the office, but she can't help but ask. "You are sitting behind your desk, though, this time, right?"
"What?"
"In case someone walks by."
"We're alone."
"That's what you thought the other day."
She has a point there, but he's unwilling to admit it. It's brought them here. He sighs, gets up and makes his way over to his desk. "I'm at my desk now, better?"
"Yeah," she answers, smiling at the mental picture. "Wait, did you just walk from your couch to your desk with your dick out?"
He grinds his teeth, looks down at his erection and wonders how on earth she imagined him being able to tuck himself back into his pants, but that's neither here nor there. "Donna," he calls out her name in a plea this time, and he closes his eyes, waiting for her to take the lead.
She presses her phone between her shoulder and her ear. She wants to ask him what he was thinking about when she walked in on him, but deep down, she knows Harvey's answer would lack details and would be a simple you.
I thought of you.
His words wouldn't be as much of an admission as last time, but she fears the tone it would come in. The true meaning behind that confession alludes to so much more than this could ever be. So she swallows once, closes her eyes and then tells him what to do instead. She tells him how and when to stroke, how fast to pump and when to slow down to a single caress, letting him trail his index finger from the base of his shaft to the tip along its pulsing vein. She tells him to fondle his balls, to circle the tip of his cock with his thumb, and she tells him to come with her.
He's panting in her ear, her name rolling off of his tongue over and over again until she cries out his name, too. She stays seated like that for a moment, just her phone clutched between her ear and her shoulder as they both catch their breath and come down from their high.
Along with that comes the realisation of what they've just done. The line they've crossed, and deep down, Donna knows this isn't one of those moments they'll ever be able to sweep under the rug and pretend it never happened – not that she wants to.
She hears him repeat her name, his tone different now. It's gentler, sending goose bumps over her frame down to her toes. She doesn't know what he wants to say and doesn't have it in her to hear it. Not now.
"Good night, Harvey," she says instead.
.
.
.
It takes him a second or two to realise she ended their call, and he remains seated in his office chair for a moment, stunned. Stunned at what they'd just done, stunned at what he was about to say. The words that had been on the tip of his tongue.
Harvey shakes his head and reprimands himself for getting so close to letting those three words slip again.
He inhales deeply, pulls a tissue out of the box and cleans himself up. Making himself presentable again, he paces through his office, wracking his hazed mind for words. He's walking before he's managed to find them, but it's no matter.
The lights are off when he arrives at her office, and she's gone.
He stares at the furniture from his position in the hallway, reliving the last hour in his mind again when fear creeps up on him. It had been Donna's idea, but what if she regrets it? What if this shakes them even more than his admission after her trial? What if this has only made her realise she doesn't feel anything when doing this either?
He still remembers every second of their argument in the lobby.
"I didn't feel anything when I kissed you, Harvey."
He's known this for a while now; deep down, he knew it before she yelled it at him. He knows she'll never return his feelings, not in the same way. Knows there's no chance of them ever having more, of having everything.
He knows it was a risk agreeing to this, knows it could send - He doesn't get a chance to let his thoughts spiral any further when his phone buzzes again. He pulls out the device and stares at his screen.
First in shock, then he smiles in relief.
It's a notification from his calendar, a recurring invite made by Donna. He clicks on it and sees that it's blocking out every Friday night for the rest of the year, paired with the standard question every invite comes with.
Do you want to accept or decline this invitation?
He hits accept.
Harvey still has no idea what this all means, if they'll ever have a chance of having everything or if this agreement will end with them being nothing at all, but maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something.