Solid Ground

Harvey sits in his office corner chair, chuckling and swallowing a sip of whiskey as Donna finishes telling him about Norma's latest scheme to mess with Louis.

The drinks they're having aren't exactly celebratory. Clifford Danner was wrongfully imprisoned for twelve years. But today the injustice was righted, and Clifford's release wouldn't have happened without Donna. So, he raised the suggestion of a nightcap with the intention of delivering a real apology for lashing out when she went to Jessica with evidence against Cameron Dennis.

Two whiskeys in, and with Donna's laugh dying down, his tongue is loose enough to swallow his ego. "Listen, Donna… You were right about Cameron. I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you."

Her amusement at Norma's antics slips into a genuine smile. Today's win was bittersweet, so she knew his invitation to stay for a drink was likely leading to a reconciliation. And she's relieved he's finally ready to talk. "I wasn't betraying you, Harvey."

"I know."

At least he does now. She was trying to save him from himself, and if she hadn't stepped in, he would have been left playing the fool. "Cameron was my mentor. He shaped the way I win. I didn't want to see how much he changed after we left."

Donna clutches the crystal in her hand, muttering under her breath. "That man has always been a snake."

Her disdain is swallowed by the last of her whiskey, and Harvey frowns as her gaze flickers away from him Despite everything Cameron's done, he honestly believes his former mentor originally swung to the dark side to help people, but Donna's opposing opinion has him narrowing his eyes curiously. "You really don't like him."

She shrugs, sliding her bare feet off the sofa to get them a refill, hoping the move will sway the spotlight away from her.

Her hips lack their usual swing as she stops at his decanter, and his intrigue flutters with concern. When it comes to the majority of people, he's not particularly observant. But the fact Donna's not milking his apology and is fixing a third drink tips him off that something isn't quite right. "Why?"

She stiffens, reluctant to go into details. Her personal grievance with Cameron has no bearing on the positive influence the former DA had on Harvey's career. And Harvey's suffered enough from people he trusts turning out to be someone they're not, so she stays tight-lipped. "Isn't falsifying evidence enough?"

He notes the extra splash of whiskey in her glass before she recaps the decanter, and his stomach twists uncomfortably as she approaches their corner sanctuary, still avoiding his gaze. Keeping his palms pressed against his thigh, he tries to coax her eyes up. "You tell me."

She doesn't fall for his ploy, placing his glass down on the coffee table instead of looking at him, and folding herself back onto the couch.

"Donna?"

Staring into the amber liquid, she takes a breath, finally meeting his pensive expression. "We worked at the DA's office a long time ago, Harvey. Haven't we drudged up enough of the past this week?"

He doesn't think so—not if there's more she's been keeping from him. "What happened?"

He makes no move to reach for his whiskey, his eyes fixed on her like she's an opponent in court, someone he'll bleed dry until he gets answers.

"Nothing," she says, breathing the rest of the confession into her glass. "Nothing I didn't stop."

Harvey's deep intake of air rattles around her, and she finds the courage to confirm his assumption is right. "Cameron inferred I slept my way onto your desk and thought I'd jump as easily onto his. I set him straight, lodged a complaint with HR, then I quit."

For a moment, he struggles to believe Cameron would disrespect any woman the way Donna's describing. The man has his flaws, but Cameron boasted about his wife, Natalie, and their marriage time and again. Yet, as much as he wants there to be another explanation—maybe Donna misunderstood the situation—one glance at her stony features has him scrubbing his face.

"Jesus, Donna." He swears into the darkness of his cupped palms, visions of her being accosted shattering the last decent image he had of Cameron. His jittery adrenaline is bolstered by finding all this out now, not four goddamn years ago. Pulling down his hands, he reaches for his drink, taking a sip to steady his nerves.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

She would have, had she needed to open his eyes to get him out from under Cameron. But when she heard he quit on his own, she didn't see the point of outing another person in his life as adulterous. "You needed to stay focused. Taking that information to Pearson Hardman would have had you questioning everyone, including Jessica."

"You don't know that," he growls, frustrated she made the decision for him. Even though, deep down, he can accept she's probably right. God knows he has issues with infidelity. Proven by the fact he's currently being an asshole—making Donna's shitty experience all about him. Sinking back, he expels a guilty sigh. "I would have taken your side."

She smiles softly. "I know."

They may not have been as close back then as they are now, but he would have defended her honor—had she asked him too. But she's learned which battles to pick, and when to leave well enough alone. "Working as a waitress, all those auditions… You think Cameron is the only man who's ever tried to put a hand up my skirt?"

He flinches, his anger rekindled and shooting sparks beneath his skin, but the feeling simmers when he realizes his behavior as her boss was possibly no better. He'd flirted with her relentlessly for weeks before he showed up unannounced at her door, and he'd be lying if he tried to claim sex hadn't been at the forefront of his mind.

Reading his silent worry, she answers his concern. "That was different. I wasn't wearing a skirt."

Her smirk makes him scoff, his eyes lifting to the hem stretched around her knees. "What about now?"

She snorts, huffing a small laugh. "You have to ask?"

He shrugs, and she shakes her head, assuring him they're on solid ground. "Harvey, you're not taking advantage of me."

Her smile slips into a sultry grin as she uncurls her legs, abandoning her glass on the coffee table. He instinctively opens his knees, and she takes his tumbler, pairing it with hers, then moving between his thighs.

His palms find their home around her waist. If they were at his condo he'd drag her down to his lap and show her how stupid he's been not calling her the past two nights. But he's settled by the fact she doesn't appear to be breaking up with him. "So you're not mad?"

"You were mad," she reminds him, fanning her fingers over his shoulders. The simple intimacy of touching him is something she's missed, but she made it clear when they gave in to their urges that a relationship between them has to be a two-way street. She wasn't, and isn't, going to do all the chasing. "I told you, outside this office, I'm not your secretary. You have to come to me if something's wrong."

He nods, finally starting to understand why she was so adamant about having two different roles in his life. At work, it's her job to rein him in. At home, his tantrums are to his own detriment. Luckily, she's been nothing if not patient these past few weeks, giving him room to make mistakes. Squeezing her hips, he smiles."Does this mean you're coming over tonight?"

"When have I ever turned down make-up sex?"

She winks and his cock twitches as she pulls out of his grasp. "Admit it." He snorts. "You dragged this out deliberately."

"Did I?" She moves away from him with a laugh. "Because that would mean you let yourself get taken advantage of."

"I never… That isn't…" He huffs, pushing himself up and following her footsteps. "You know what? Go ahead and laugh." With a grin, he leans over her shoulder, whispering in her ear. "You won't find this funny when I'm between your legs making you apologize."

Her cheeks flush scarlet as he pats her ass, her eyes gleaming as he moves around his desk, scooping up his phone and keys.

Emotionally, they're muddling through being together, at odds nearly every second Tuesday. But their relationship is the easiest one she's ever been in. And when he takes her hand, clutching her fingers and then dropping them by the door, she can tell from his beaming smile that he feels the same way.