First of all, I wanted to thank everyone who's been so nice to leave a comment on this fic on the Suitsxmasfic account, and a VERY BIG EXTRA THANK YOU to those who've come back now that I've posted it on my own account and left a comment here too. That means the world. Now, one thing that seemed to be a general consensus in the reviews was the need for a part 2, and who am I to deny you (and Donna and Harvey) that pleasure? I did not think I'd have a second chapter this soon, but here it is :) As for the following chapters, I still have to write them, and they'll come when they come, so idk just jump on this train with me.

I really hope you all like this second chapter, and as always, I would love to read your thoughts (about this chapter or anything you'd wish to see them do in the future) in the comments. They always bring me inspiration. Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy it. X - M.

A HELPING HAND

CHAPTER II – Your office or mine?

If he thought the anticipation was agonising last week, he has another thing coming. Now that he has a fresh memory of what it's like to come with Donna's voice in his ear and the knowledge that a repeat event is happening in just five days, his entire body buzzes to the point that he has to watch his step as he gets off the elevator, lest he looks like Louis once the lawyer made senior partner. He's heard the stories, but deep down, he knows his excitement exceeds that of his fellow lawyer.

He smiles at the receptionist, then quickly schools his features by pulling out his phone. He pretends to check his messages as he makes his way down to his office, but honestly, he's just staring at the blocked-out Friday night in his calendar.

A weekly occurring event.

He smiles again, to himself this time and absentmindedly pushes open the door to his office.

"Don't worry, I didn't cancel it."

How on earth he didn't spot her sitting on the corner of his desk is beyond him. He just about manages to hold onto his phone as he comes to a halt. He nods at her then. "I wasn't checking," he tells her, putting his phone back in his pant pocket.

"Sure you weren't."

He catches a grin tugging on Donna's lips and rolls his eyes as he rounds the desk, watching her come to stand again. He takes her in then, allowing his gaze to linger for a second longer than he usually would.

She's wearing one of her cobalt blue numbers he's seen her don before, this one with ruffles down her side, and she looks absolutely stunning. She always does.

"Why are you here?"

"I walked by, and your phone was ringing, but whatever temp you have this week was nowhere around, so –"She pauses and hands him the post-it notes she'd been holding.

It's been a long time since she's done this, taken a message for him, and yet he can picture it all too easily. Donna is sitting in the cubicle outside his office, phone pressed between her ear and shoulder, and he's done his absolute best this last decade not to let his mind wander (too often), but he can't help it from happening now. Donna sitting in her old spot, the intercom on between them and –

"Anyway, I told Marcus you should be in any minute and you'd call him back first thing."

"Right," he mutters, shaking his head as he takes the little yellow square from her hand. He takes in her familiar handwriting and then sticks it to his desk. He realises she could have done all that herself, just taking the message and leaving the post-it note on his desk for him to find, yet she's here. He's about to call her out on it when she speaks again.

"You okay, there?"

Harvey looks up at her again, his gaze locking with hers. He notices how she tilts her head and tries to read him, and it shouldn't be any different than all the other times they've looked at one another over the years, but it is. Harvey isn't one to blush, but he feels his cheeks burn all the same. "Yeah," he answers at last. Tapping the post-it note on his desk as he looks away again. "I'll give him a call; I was just a little –"

"Distracted?"

He can hear the joyous curiosity in her voice; she's teasing him like she used to do back in the D.A.'s office, and it's exactly what she called it: distracting. For years, they've had clear lines defining whatever they are to one another, boss and secretary, friends -

Her rule is the guide he's lived by for years, and now it's all blurring.

Part of him is still scared this could all blow up and ruin them beyond repair, but he's had a little taste now of what it's like with different boundaries. Even though he knows it will never be more, will never be everything, he's not willing to give up this, whatever the hell one wants to call something like this.

So he does what he's always done – let her guide them.

He nods again, positively affirming her assessment without any words. He shrugs, then, "Can you blame me?"

Donna shifts on her spot, locking one foot behind her other as she fiddles with one of the rings on her hand, and his question breaks down a tiny part of the cool, calm and collected façade she'd put on this morning.

The truth is she's been nervous all weekend about the prospect of seeing him again. She doesn't regret what they did last week and doesn't regret sending out the invite for more of those moments, but that doesn't mean it's easy, either.

She knows she was the one to suggest this, to shake up the very foundations of their relationship, knowing it might never truly make that wall between them come down crumbling for good. She knows there's a chance they'll get lost in the rubble, and yet –

One thing is for sure, though: it's something she's always lived by and has applied to difficult situations between them numerous times over the year. She has to be in control; it's easier to deal with things if you're the one initiating conversations than being blindsided by the questions.

It's for the same reason that she wandered off to his office the second she stepped foot on the fiftieth floor. It's better to see him now, get it over and done with, squash any residual nerves and not spend all day behind her desk on guard. Head bobbing up every time someone walks by in the hopes that it's him.

"No," she says then, smiling softly as she shakes her head. She can't blame him at all.

"Aren't you?"

She is, but she doesn't give in that easily. Instead, she gives Harvey a sly smile and jokes about how he's wearing a black suit, so she's okay. A comment that has him laugh, and suddenly, all the tension between them disappears.

"Call Marcus," She orders with a smile, pointing at the post-it note as she turns on her spot. Ready to leave him be for the rest of the day. She's in the door opening when he calls out her name.

"Donna?"

She looks over her shoulder and sees the unspoken question in his eyes. "We are okay, Harvey."

He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding before pressing his lips into a thin line. "Good."

"Good."

.

.

Even if the partner's meeting this week isn't filled with one double entendre after the other, it doesn't mean she makes it any easier on him until Friday. On Tuesday, it is a black dress with a pencil skirt highlighting every curve of her beautiful body that by noon, he has already closed two cases and finished another four briefs.

On Wednesday, it is a blush pink piece, and her cleavage is difficult to ignore by just the cut of the dress, but of course, the garment comes with a bow right there, drawing his eyes down more often than he's willing to admit. He comes close to taking up a pro bono case, but the word reminds him too much of a stage his body should not have at the office in the middle of the day, and thus, he busies himself with the one thing he's sure will have the opposite effect - he offers Louis his help on a case.

It's nearing five o'clock on Thursday, and he hasn't seen her yet. Did he have this week's temp schedule three meetings out of the office for the sole purpose of his sanity? Maybe, but he'll never admit to that out loud.

He realises she knows the second she spots him, and he can't help but swallow and stand a little straighter when he takes her in. He's never once thought about actively running in the other direction these past two weeks, so it's ironic that the thought crosses his mind when there's no place to go but back up against the elevator wall.

Donna flashes him a smile and manoeuvres herself between the other people, so she ends up standing beside him in the back. "Hey. How was your meeting?"

"Fine." His answer comes out a little harsher than he intends, and he shuffles on his spot, lifting his gaze from his feet to her face only to find her already looking at him. Her grin tells him she knows exactly what she's doing.

He shifts his weight onto his right leg, leaning in a tad. Speaking softly so only she can hear. "This isn't fair, you know."

"What?"

Harvey indicates her dress, and in particular, the cleavage hidden behind a mesh-like tangle of white fabric, with a bob of his head. It gives him another peak of what he knows lies underneath. Averting his gaze, he draws his bottom lip between his teeth.

Donna grins to herself as she watches his reaction. She always liked toying with him, quick quips and teasing a second language between them, but this – acknowledging one another's appearance in a not precisely business-like way – is new.

It's exciting.

She mirrors his motion, keeping her gaze ahead on the back of the crown of some banker from the thirtieth floor as she leans to her left. "You should see what I've saved for tomorrow."

Harvey groans at that, and she chuckles too loudly at his reaction, causing the man in question to look over his shoulder in their direction. Suddenly, the ceiling is super interesting. Both of them stare at some spot or another, silently waiting until the man redirects his gaze once more as the elevator reaches his stop.

He uses the distraction to shift slightly closer to her, his fingers tingling by his side. If she didn't have her hands filled with files in front of her, he'd have been able to reach out and hold her hand. The thought is far too domestic for what they are, and he pushes it away, his index finger flicking against the fabric of her skirt instead.

The elevator stops again three floors up, the last person getting off. And then it's just them. He swears he can feel the tiny box fill with tension around them. When he catches her inhale deeply, he thinks she does too.

It gives him just enough courage to ask. "Anything you'd wish for me to wear?"

Donna takes a moment to think over her answer, absentmindedly biting down on her lip as she does so. "My favourite suit."

She's never said it with words, but he knows the one she's referring to nonetheless. He can't help but tease her in return. "I don't think they'll allow me past the lobby in my birthday suit."

His answer makes her snort and then giggle at the surprise of the sound coming from her. She's glad it's just him witnessing this because Donna Paulsen does not snort. Or she didn't use to. She feels his eyes linger on her, and when the elevator reaches the fiftieth floor at last, she uses the opening of the doors as the escape it is. "You're incorrigible."

It takes him two seconds and three significant strides to catch up with her. "Ooh. And you're saying this isn't planned." He said the same to her last week, but it's worth repeating.

"I never said it wasn't."

Her smug smile shows him she knows exactly what she's doing. "God, woman," he mutters under his breath.

"Donna is fine."

He's at a loss for words, downright gaping by the time they reach her office. He feels a shiver run down his spine when she playfully taps his chin, signalling for him to close his mouth. And then she winks.

"See you tomorrow."

.

.

It's nearing seven o'clock; it's definitely tomorrow, and he still hasn't seen her. It's both a relief and pure anguish at the same time. He's dying to know what she's wearing, which outfit of hers qualifies for her statement, 'You should see what I've saved for tomorrow'.

If he thinks back to the pieces she wore these past two weeks, particularly last Friday, it should be another dress that accentuates her cleavage like no other, paired with a flowy skirt. There's always a possibility she's bought something new for the occasion that in itself is an exciting thought, but his mind rattles through the back catalogue of skirts that twirled around her, caught in the wind from time to time, and most of them have one thing in common – they're long.

But when he hears the familiar thud of her heels on the floor, he slowly lifts his gaze from his desk, its legs for days. From her nude pumps, slim ankles and shaped calves right up to her knee and over, the baby blue dress stops just below mid-thigh.

Donna feels it before she sees it happening: the way his gaze slowly trails over her figure, lingering on her skin. His mouth almost parts, and his eyes –

She needs to look away from their intensity, but at least this time, it is positive. This time, it's not close to hatred.

It's why she picked this particular dress today.

She has only worn it once before, on her first day on Louis' desk. A soft pastel colour, symbolic of the fresh start she would make. It was also shorter than her usual dresses, and she tried to tell herself it wasn't to let him know what he was missing. That day ended in an argument about the can-opener and her thinking about what she's missing.

At least this time, she can link a memory of appreciation to the specific garment.

"You ready to eat?"

"Uhm," he shakes out of his thoughts, averts his gaze and then looks back up at her. "What?"

She lifts the two containers of takeout in her hands, smiling at him as she sees the pretend sigh leave his lips. It's not and has never been a shitty place, no matter how often he tries to remind her. "Got your usual," she says as she places it on his desk and sits in one of the chairs across from him.

"With – "

"Extra spring rolls and a fried wonton, yes."

He clears his desk, undoes his suit jacket, pours both of them a glass of Macallan 18, and slides the cardboard box of food in his direction. They eat, drink and share stories about their week for hours. She asks how he's doing after his call with Marcus the other day, and he told her that night what Katie's decision had been regarding the divorce. He'd said he was fine then and says he's fine now, but she knows better. So instead, she teases him about his stellar determination to do the job this week cause not one but two first-year associates had come to ask if everything was alright cause Mr. Specter was doing all of his research himself now.

He rolls his eyes, shakes his head and says that's all on her.

She laughs and remembers her own words from the day before. Demonstratively, she pushes back her chair and twirls around. "You like it?"

He laughs softly and nods in confirmation. Cause it's a rhetorical question. Donna knows he does; his reaction couldn't have been more obvious. But it wasn't just that it's short, shows all of her best assets or that she simply looks stunning in it. "I like that you're not sitting behind that desk anymore."

"You remember it?" she whispers; his answer surprises her.

"How could I forget?"

The words leave his lips before he can stop them, but it's the truth. There's nothing he forgets when it comes to her, let alone one of the roughest periods of his life. He also realises then that his answer is bordering on the uncertainty of that time. They've moved on and said they were back to normal – but the deal they have now is anything but that. He also knows that if he doesn't lighten the mood quickly, it could all be over before it officially starts.

"I didn't know it was that short, though, not that I mind the view."

She can't help but blush at his words, the way he stares at her again, but she also knows it's an out. An escape from a slippery slope they've treaded one too many times, and the best course of action is to take it. So she does.

"You should take a picture; it will last longer."

He rolls his eyes and huffs.

She leans over his desk, covering his phone with her hand, slowly pushing it in his direction. "Unless that means you won't last longer."

He's also quick to reach for it, his hand covering hers. His voice is low when he speaks. "I think we both know how long I can last."

"Ooh," she laughs, pulling her hand from under his. She picks up her phone from the corner of his desk. "We'll see about that."

"Is that a challenge?"

She watches him roll up his sleeves and the muscles of his forearm flex with every move, bringing back memories of seeing that happen up close – right next to her head – during the other time. The effect he has on her should be studied cause it's instant; she also knows she's lost the bet right there cause she isn't one to be quiet.

But hey, maybe she could come twice. It would be a win-win.

She doesn't answer his question; she merely turns around and walks away with an extra sway of her hips with each step. She stops at the door opening, giving him a wink before approaching her office.

His name appears on her phone not even five seconds later. She grins and answers the call instantly. "Harvey?"

"Are you in your office yet?"

She laughs because it's what she asked the last time. She also knows Harvey knows she isn't yet. "Not yet, why?" She asks, stalling on her spot in the middle of the hallway.

"Starting to think, maybe I should have taken a picture after all."

"Hmm, memory not that good anymore, huh?" she teases him. "That does not bode well."

He can't. Actually, he can believe she's throwing in an old man joke here, but he chooses not to comment on it. He chooses not to remind her they're practically the same age. "My memory is just fine," he tells her. "Imagination, too, but nothing comes close to the real thing."

"Smooth, mister."

"I wish I could see you."

She knows it's a bad idea the second her feet carry her back in the direction of his office, but before her mind can circle back to anything resembling rationale, he's in her sight again, and the surprise on his face sends a shiver down her spine.

The truth is she wants to see him, too.

But at the same time, doing this, pleasuring herself when in the same room with him at touching distance? It's too much. It's too close to everything this could never evolve into. She's close to turning around and bolting on the spot when she hears his voice in her ear- just her name.

She looks to her left and spots the cubicle, the four half walls she has called home for over a decade. Her little sanctuary outside of his office is just enough of a place she can claim as hers and still follow the rules in her mind.

He swallows thickly as he sees her move around the blue wall and then sit down in the spot that will always be hers in his mind. Not that he isn't proud of her new position. He is, and will challenge everyone who claims otherwise. It's just that spot outside of his office; it has never and will never belong to anyone else but her.

"You… you're-"

She flashes him a confident smile and leans back in the chair. "You wanted to see me."

"God," he breathes.

"Donna is still fine."

He shakes his head and watches the woman on the opposite side of the glass. In slight disbelief that she's right there, for him to see – when she sent him away last time. For his own sanity, he shouldn't ask, but he does anyway. "You sure about this?"

She's no prude and knows from stories she didn't need to hear that, neither is he. Their flirting these past few days was just foreplay for what's to come. It's not his question of consent, but his tone of voice when he asks if she's sure about this that does things to her. Things she's not willing to put a label on. "I am. Unzip your pants."

She hears the fabric ruffle on the other side of the line and looks at him momentarily. She can't see a thing with him sitting behind his desk, but she sees him shuffle, sees his arm move, and knows he's freed himself. She leans back in her chair and kicks off her pumps, propping one foot onto a drawer handle as she pulls up the skirt of her dress.

She studies his face and tries to read his mood; it looks like he's lost in thought for a moment. Caught in a distant memory, she's dying to know more about it. "What's on your mind?" she whispers then.

"Nothing."

"Harvey."

He draws in a breath, turns his chair just so and leans back. "This reminded me of when Benjamin -"

"If you're able to think about Benjamin now, I – "

"Donna," he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. And he might be an idiot for admitting this, but he knows she'll get it out of him eventually. "I had to watch that kid crawl under your desk multiple times a year, and every time, all I could think about was how that should have been me."

She sucks in a breath at his admission. Deep down, she thinks a part of her knew this. It's not that far of a stretch, given their history, and she did always add a little spice to her conversation with Benjamin when she knew he was listening in.

"I hope it wouldn't have been to update my VOX piece."

He laughs as he remembers the last time he had to witness this: her whole spiel about needing a memory stick more than once a quarter. It had been on the tip of his tongue that more than once a night would be more accurate. His dick twitches at the memory of the other time. "I think we both know what it would've been for."

"Touch yourself and tell me."

She keeps her focus on him after that, watches how his arm flexes, slowly moving up and down, no doubt about what he's doing, and notices how his jaw sets the second he turns to look at her.

And then he speaks.

"I'd pull your chair towards me so your knees would be right up to my face. And then I'd take off your shoes."

"Already off."

"Alright," he hums, taking a second to watch her. He takes in the smile on her face, the soft nod that follows, begging him to continue. He runs his hand up and down his shaft again. "I'd take your foot in my hand, caress your calf and kiss the inside of your knee."

Donna closes her eyes and brings her free hand to her knee, thumb sweeping over the spot he'd just described.

"Then I'd slowly bring my hand up to your other thigh, squeezing you as my fingers slip under the edge of this dress. I'd gently push your legs apart, your dress slipping up, revealing your – "

"Red," she breathes, caressing her thighs. "Red. Lace. Thong."

"Fuck." He moans at the memory of the panties she'd been wearing the other time and adds a little pressure to the tip of cock, thumb running over the slit. "Revealing your red panties to me, and I – "

She watches him wet his lips and smirks, knowing precisely that that's what he would say too, but he doesn't. Instead, they take a moment to watch another and then he continues.

"I'd bring my hands to your hips, pull you closer to the edge of your chair, to my face."

Donna adjusts her position to his description.

"And I'd see how wet you are for me." He hears her soft moan in his ear. "Are you?"

She doesn't have to look or touch herself to know she is, but she brings her hand between her legs anyway. Two deft fingers slide over her slit, and even through the fabric, her fingers get coated in her desire. She could use her words. Last week, she would have used her words, but Harvey's looking at her so intensely that she does the next best thing. Bringing her fingers up to her mouth, she sucks them clean.

And he has his answer.

"Fuck, Donna."

She smirks in return, pleased by his reaction. "I didn't win already, did I?"

He shoots her a look across the glass that tells her he'll make her pay for her words. "No," he adds for good measure, but this erection throbs in his hand all the same. "Anyway," he muses, looking away for a second. "Where was I."

"I think you were about to take my panties off."

"I.." he stammers, peering at her again. He loses all his thoughts when he catches the piece of fabric from his description dangling from her finger. Before she drops it on the desk and leans back in her chair, the way he hears her say his name enough for him to move on.

"Right," he starts again. "I'd see how turned on you are, and then I'd hook my fingers under the band of your thong, slowly pulling it down. And when you lift your hips to help me, I'd almost kiss you."

Her fingers ghost over her clit, touching but not. Exactly like he describes.

"And then I'd work my way up your thigh, kissing, licking, softly biting your delicate flesh until you'd practically beg me to dive in."

"I don't beg."

He gives her another look, and she simply shrugs. The other time not on her side for this statement.

"Please," she whispers then, biting down on her lip as she sees him suck in a breath.

"And then I'd kiss you, right there," she hears him in her ear and her fingers finally hit home. Softly pressing against her clit to mimic the sensation of his lips. She moves her fingers down, stroking down her lips, up and down as if he's lapping at her juices, and when he tells her he's circling her clit with this tongue, she does the same with her thumb.

Hearing her moan, seeing the way her eyes close and her lips part slowly is so incredibly hot he thinks it's a miracle he's not already come. But he's nothing if not a winner, and while this is not a bet he's willing to lose, he still pumps his erection with steady strokes.

Harvey tells her how good she tastes, how he'd lift one of her legs over his shoulder, and even though he can see next to nothing of her lower from his spot, he can see the way she adjusts her position.

He doesn't dare to move his chair and roll over a foot to the right, but it does make him wonder if she can see him. If she can see how hard he is. If she can see the way his thumb runs over his swollen head. He doesn't think she can, and he pumps a little harder at that.

He catches the way her eyes widen again and thinks maybe she does. Or at least she can see the way his arm moves. He strokes himself again, winks, and then he tells her he'd ask her to cup her breast.

He knew it was coming, and yet it's a sight to behold. He stays quiet for a moment as he sees Donna lock her phone between her ear and her shoulder before she brings her free hand to cup her breast over her dress.

"Yeah, just like that. Pinch your nipple for me."

He hears her pitched moan in his ear as she does as he asks, and then when Harvey hears his name again, he knows she's close. Knowing she's following his words with her motions, he finally tells her he would insert his fingers into her warmth.

The sigh that follows tells him she did, too.

And then he tells her all the other things he'd do to her hidden under her desk until she's positively panting in his ear. His breathing isn't far off either, his body ready to explode, just like he knows hers is. "Come for me, Donna."

"Come with me."

He almost chuckles; she's stubborn to a fault. Just like him, but he'll give this one to her because there's no way he can last any longer, either. So when he nods at her, and she nods in return, they come at the same time to nothing but the sound of the other's name in their ear.

He doesn't win, but neither does she.

It's a tie.

One that begs for a rematch.

He already can't wait for next Friday.

And neither can she.

A/N: Hope you've enjoyed this chapter! It would make my day to read your thoughts/predictions here in the reviews :) Thank you