Perfect Little Things
Harvey's hands skim over a tired shoe box, his eyes arching at faded cutouts of heartthrobs he remembers from the 90s. They're taped to the sides, decorated with glitter glue, and he immediately pictures Donna fawning over teenage magazines long before she picked up a copy of Vogue or GQ.
His wife is across the room behind him, deciding which clothes to take to Seattle or donate to charity, and he turns his head with a smirk. "What about this?"
She glances over, her cheeks flushing with heat at his inquisitive rattle. They don't have secrets, but she forgot about the object hiding in the back of her closet, and all the cheesy momentos and love notes hidden inside. He'd tease her mercilessly for keeping them, and she approaches him, trying to save herself from the embarrassment. "That's for my eyes only."
She sticks out her hand expectantly, and he balances the weight on his palm. "Possession is nine-tenths of the law, legally it's mine."
"Stealing is grounds for a divorce." She wiggles her fingers, watching his amusement deflate as he absently takes in the box again. When he gives in, handing it over, she pushes it back with a smile. Over the years she's weaseled out plenty of his embarrassing stories, from Gordon, Marcus, and even Scottie. It's only fair he gets a little leverage of his own, and she kneels down next to him with a sheepish nudge. "Don't judge."
He grins, promising no such thing, and she already regrets letting him win, but when he pries off the lid, he stills with a small hitch, and she frowns. "What's wrong?"
He shakes off the momentary pause, reaching into the mess of photos, ticket stubs and papers, and he carefully pulls out a lewdly drawn post-it he remembers scribbling. "You kept this."
She rustles the box. "I kept a lot of things."
He can see. But at a glance there isn't anything else in there from after the late 90s, and he waves the post-it at her knowingly.
His smirk is infuriating, and she shoves him, plucking it out of his grasp with a chuckle. "You should consider yourself lucky."
He beams a cheeky smile as she kneels up, and he catches her waist before she can escape. "Yeah. Why is that?"
"Now we have instructions." She sinks over his thighs, careful not to crinkle the paper as she slips her arms around his neck. "In case our marriage ever loses its spark."
He laughs lowly, his groin already twitching in response to her warm body. "Impossible." He grins. "My wife is too damn hot."
"You're an idiot." She shakes her head at him. But their plentiful sex life aside, they're in no danger of becoming complacent in any area of their marriage. The way he looks at her now is almost the same as he did back then, but his gaze runs deeper than lust, beaming with love and adoration. The post-it she's holding started them down this path. She didn't know if they would end up here, but at least a part of her hoped they might. "I kept it because I knew you'd fall for me."
He rubs her sides with a tickle, even though she's right. All their flirting and joking around at the DA's office used to drive him crazy, and when he showed up at her door after he quit, the reality of being with her beat expectations. Things would have been a lot simpler if he'd come to his senses then, but he wouldn't trade what they have now for anything, not even a chance to do it all over, because things turned out exactly the way they were supposed to. "I fell for you the moment we met."
He beams a smile, one she isn't falling for. "You wanted to get in my pants," she challenges with a smirk. While she appreciates the sappiness, they both know it's bullshit.
"I did." He agrees with a laugh. But just because he found her attractive doesn't mean he wasn't charmed by her whole package. "I also knew you were different."
"Why?" she teases. "Because I turned you down?"
"No." He shakes his head, reaching up to steal the post-it from her hand, and returning it safely to the box with all the other notes and momentos. He hasn't been shy about expressing himself since they got together, and he isn't now, finding her gaze. "You knew who I was, and you wanted more from both of us. I'm the man I am because you saw something in me no one else did."
She looks for words that will hold the same sentiment, but he reacts faster, sweeping his hand through her hair, and kissing her with a frenzy of desire and love that makes her knees tremble. And she lets him lean her back beside the faded photos of Mark-Paul Gosselaar and Luke Perry slathered in glitter glue.
He swallows her laugh with a deeper kiss, fully intending to hear all her embarrassing stories, maybe with a wine over dinner. And any sense of regret that he hasn't carried his own stash of mementos disappears as she feathers her hand through his hair.
She's his keep-safe box of memories.
The only reminder of his past he needs.