I
Donna stands at her office window, arms folded tightly across her chest, watching the city bustle below. It's been a long, grueling day – the latest round of discovery documents came in this morning, and she's been buried in legal briefs ever since. Her head aches, the product of too many hours of stress and coffee and staring at tiny words on pages. She wants a hot bath and a glass of wine. A good night's sleep. Maybe then she'll be able to shake the memory of Harvey's lips on hers and get back to being herself again.
He hasn't shown his face all day, and while a small part of her is grateful for his absence, she can't help but wonder what he's been up to. Probably still in his office, preparing to ruin her and her entire team. She lets out a frustrated sigh. She doesn't know what to think anymore. Her brain is fried and all she can do is stand here and feel her exhaustion, feel her anger and her frustration and her lingering desire, which seems to never leave her no matter how hard she tries.
And why hasn't Harvey at least called? If he isn't going to pick up the Wolcott files, he can call to tell her, right? God, she hates him. She really does. She hates his cockiness and his arrogance and his goddamn smirk. She hates his voice and his soft brown eyes and how even though he was angry and full of lust, he was so gentle when he kissed her, how he loosened his grip on her bruised waist the moment she made the tiniest noise. How he had stopped. How he had apologized.
Wes never stops, and he certainly never apologizes. Wes wouldn't let go if she was in pain; he would grip tighter, kiss harder. He would demand more.
She shoves that thought aside. It doesn't matter. Harvey was an asshole for showing up last night, and for kissing her in the first place, and for not picking up those damn files this morning like he said he would, and that's it. End of story. She has work to do. And she has a fiancé who she will be going home to later, her loving, doting, violent fiancé, and it's not that she wants Harvey, because that would be crazy, she just finds him attractive, that's all. She needs to pull herself together. Forget about last night and what happened and just –
Donna sighs. She can't forget about it. She knows she can't. Not the way she feels about it, and not the way it's made her feel about herself, either.
She steps away from the window and out of her office, stopping at Louis' cubicle. He looks up at her expectantly.
"Any word from the DA's office about the Wolcott files they're supposed to pick up?"
"No, Donna." His voice is exasperated. "Honestly, I'm not surprised. I've sent Tina – Harvey's disgrace of a secretary – six reminders today, and she still hasn't responded. You want me to call? Turn up the heat?"
Donna hesitates a moment. She doesn't want to appear too eager or too invested. She doesn't want him to think she cares that he's ignoring her. Because she doesn't, not really. She hardly cares at all. But the workday is almost over and it would be so much easier if they just showed up to grab the damn documents so she can stop worrying about them, and...
"Yes," she says finally. "Put it on speaker."
Louis nods, picking up the phone and dialing with a flourish. As it rings, he can't help but add, "I'll apologize in advance for Tina's unprofessional and borderline abysmal reception, but as we both know, Harvey Specter isn't one for quality."
The call is picked up on the other end. "District Attorney's office, this is Tina speaking."
Louis's face contorts in disgust. "Tina, darling," he begins, his voice dripping with false sweetness. "This is Louis Litt, assistant to the great Donna Paulsen, who – despite her utter distaste for Harvey Specter, and no surprise there, let me tell you – has been gracious enough to provide your boss with a wealth of files in response to his subpoena for George Wolcott." He gives a quick look at Donna. "We're still waiting on Harvey, I presume? That's not surprising – he has the attention span of a squirrel. But the fact is, Donna is a busy woman. If Harvey wants this information, he'll need to be in the office to pick it up within the next hour. We're on a deadline here, Tina, and we cannot wait all day."
A long, slow exhale on the other end of the phone. "I'm aware, Louis. But Harvey passed off the case to someone else. I'll make sure whoever's taken over is there to pick it up by the end of the day."
There's a strange sound then, a strangled sort of squeak from Louis' throat.
Donna can feel her own heart drop, a cold weight settling in her stomach. "What do you mean, passed it off?" she demands, stepping closer to the phone.
"Oh! Ms. Paulsen, I didn't realize you were there," Tina says. "I'm sorry, I don't have all the details. He just gave me the paperwork. I'll make sure the case is handed to someone who will give it the proper attention."
"Tina." The name escapes Donna's mouth like a curse. "Put Harvey on the phone, please."
"I'm sorry, he's in a meeting."
"Bullshit. Put him on."
A nervous pause. "I told you, he's in a meeting," Tina says again, her voice less sure. "He was very clear that if you were to call, I was to inform you that he's busy and unable to come to the phone."
Louis scoffs, clearly appalled by Harvey's insolence and lack of decorum, while Donna is...furious. Her hands curl into fists at her sides. He's avoiding her. Deliberately. After everything that happened last night, after that kiss...
How dare he do this, how dare he just hand her over to some junior fucking prosecutor. She wants him and only him. He's hers, dammit.
"I don't care what he told you," Donna bites out, leaning towards the speaker phone. "Get him on the goddamn line!"
There's another pause, longer this time. "I'm sorry," Tina says again, her voice small. "He's not available."
Donna's about to unleash a torrent of frustration when she feels a hand on her arm. She turns to see Rachel standing beside her, concern etched across her face. Samantha's there too, leaning against a nearby desk, arms folded and a curious glint in her eye.
"Thank you, Tina," Rachel says, reaching past Donna to end the call. She turns to Donna, her voice gentle. "What's going on?"
Donna lets out an annoyed sigh. "Harvey passed off the Wolcott case."
Rachel's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Isn't that a good thing?" she asks. "Harvey's their best. With him off the case, we have a much better shot at winning."
"What's the point of winning," Donna says, "if I can't rub it in Harvey's stupid, smug face? I've spent months preparing for him. I deserve this victory." She looks to Louis for backup, but he's shell-shocked and still processing Tina's words, mumbling under his breath about Harvey being a selfish, entitled, narcissistic sonofabitch, and so she turns to Samantha, who has remained curiously silent.
Samantha pushes off the desk, giving Donna a once-over, a slight smirk on her lips. "So what are you going to do about this development?"
Donna meets her gaze, a determined set to her jaw. "I'm going down there," she says, "the bastard can't avoid me if I'm in the same room with him."
Rachel looks aghast, opening her mouth to protest, but Donna cuts her off, her voice sharp and brooking no argument. "This isn't up for debate. Harvey passed off my case, he has some goddamn explaining to do. Now, please call our team of paralegals together. Tell them to get everything ready to hand over. And, Louis…" She gives him a stern look and he stops mumbling to himself, standing at attention. "Call Ray and have him waiting for me in front of the building in ten."
She turns away without waiting for their responses, heading back into her office. She can hear footsteps behind her and isn't surprised when Samantha falls into step beside her.
"So," Samantha says casually, "anything happen to make Harvey back off like this? Seems pretty out of character."
Donna pauses. It's clear what Samantha is inferring, and she wants to brush her off, wants to pretend she has no idea what she means. But something tells her Samantha would see right through any of her bullshit excuses.
"I..." she starts, then falters. "There might have been..." she takes a breath. "Something. Last night."
"Something."
"Something," she repeats, closing her office door behind them both. "It's all kind of a blur. Things got a little heated. We argued and I... I slapped him. He... Well, he deserved it."
She half expects Samantha to react, to be shocked, appalled. To judge Donna, maybe, for letting things go so far with an opponent, to criticize her for her impulsive, reckless behavior. But the other woman simply nods, seemingly unsurprised. "Well," she says, "if he did something to earn your ire, then that's his own damn fault."
Donna raises her eyebrows slightly at her, somewhat surprised at Samantha's response, or rather, non-response. But before she can question it, the other woman continues.
"Still," she says. "It's not like Harvey to back down so easily. Or at all, really. I wonder what prompted him to hand the case off."
Donna looks away. "I'm not sure. Like I said, it's all a bit of a blur. I was angry, he was angry... And it wasn't like a typical slap, more of a backhanded gesture." She runs her fingertips over her hand, feeling a twinge of guilt and regret, like she's responsible for whatever caused the decision.
"Damn. I wish I could have seen it," Samantha says, looking like she does, indeed, wish she could have witnessed the spectacle. "I knew better than to leave the two of you alone together."
Donna huffs out a sigh of frustration, moving to grab her phone, keys, and wallet from her desk. "God, what a coward to not even have the decency to tell me about the change personally. What kind of asshole hands off a case to someone else without even having the balls to say it to the opposing counsel's face?" She shoves the items into her bag, feeling the anger and frustration start to well up again.
"You want me to go with you? Provide backup?"
"No," Donna shakes her head. "I can handle him."
"Oh, I know you can, but a little company couldn't hurt."
"You just want to watch in case it ends with me slapping him again."
Samantha's smile is all teeth. "Absolutely, and I would happily be your wingwoman in this, but you're right. It's better for you to go alone. Besides, I have my own bullshit to deal with. The Zenith merger is turning into a nightmare – turns out the CEO is sleeping with his assistant and his wife found out and wants to sell her shares in retaliation." She sighs. "I swear to god, all of these corporate fuckwads are the same. They can't keep it in their pants and they expect me to fix everything." She rolls her eyes and makes her way to the door.
Donna watches her leave, a small smile on her lips. At least the Samantha problem seems to have resolved itself. No weird, probing looks or awkward conversations about her relationship. It's one less thing on her list of things to deal with.
II
Harvey leans back in his office chair, loosening his tie. It's been a long day, and it's far from over. There's a mountain of work on his desk, and no end in sight. He rubs his hands over his face, stifling a yawn. He could really use a nap right about now, but he knows it'll be at least another eight hours before he's able to rest his eyes.
"Did you get a chance to look at the notes I sent you on the Carver case?" Mike's voice says from the doorway, interrupting Harvey's thoughts. "There were a couple points that seemed a little...iffy, I thought we might go over them before I hand them in."
He walks in and throws a stack of papers onto Harvey's desk, flopping down onto the chair opposite him with a weary sigh.
"Not now," Harvey says, picking up the pages and giving them a cursory glance before tossing them into his "out" basket. He reaches for a pen, and begins flipping through one of the files stacked in front of him.
There's a moment of silence, and then Mike says, "Is everything okay?"
"Why wouldn't it be?"
Mike shrugs. "You passed off the Wolcott case, I'm just curious as to why. Not like you to delegate. Especially on a case that might make or break your DA campaign." He pauses, leaning forward and lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Was it Cameron? Did he pull you off? Because you know if he did, we can find a way to..."
Mike trails off at the sound of a commotion in the outer hallway, and the two men look up just in time to see the source of the disturbance enter Harvey's office.
Donna storms inside, not even acknowledging Mike, who stares at her with wide-eyed curiosity. She walks right up to Harvey's desk and plants both palms on it, leaning across to stare him in the eyes.
"You son of a bitch. I postponed my wedding for you! I dropped my whole goddamn life to take you on. And you have the audacity to hand my case off to someone else and ghost me?"
Her eyes are wild with fury, and there's a red tinge to her cheeks and a flush of color spreading down her throat to the top of her cleavage, which Harvey has absolutely not noticed is displayed very nicely by the neckline of her dress. He tears his gaze away from her, glancing at Mike who still appears dumbfounded.
"Mike," Harvey says. "Out."
"I—Uh...yeah...sorry," Mike stammers, clearly unsure how to respond to the scene before him. He gets up and scrambles out of the office, pulling the door closed behind him.
Harvey takes a deep breath. This is exactly what he'd hoped to avoid, seeing her, dealing with this mess. And now here she is, staring him down like she wants to strangle him, and he's finding it hard to meet her gaze, to not think about her body against his, his fingers in her hair, her tongue in his mouth. He clenches his jaw and takes a deep breath. He needs to keep his shit together, or else this whole thing will go sideways real fast.
"What do you want from me, Donna?"
"I want you to explain what the hell you think you're doing," she says angrily. "Why would you step down? I thought you wanted this. I thought..." Her voice trails off, her words fading into an uncertain nothing.
"You know why I did it."
Donna straightens up, crossing her arms over her chest. She seems to collect herself a little, her anger ebbing and turning into something like annoyance. There's an awkward pause. And then, she says, "Look, if this is because of...because of what happened, it doesn't have to be a thing, okay? It's done, over. We can just forget about it." She sounds as if she's trying to convince herself, and Harvey considers her words, wondering what the hell to do with them. Because the truth is, he doesn't know if he can forget. He's spent the whole damn day thinking about that kiss. And now that she's standing here, looking at him, her face flushed, her breath quick, her anger and hurt radiating from her like heat waves on asphalt... well, it's all he can think about.
He looks away, his jaw tight, and there's another long, agonizing moment of silence. He doesn't want to look at her. Doesn't want to think about her. Doesn't want to remember how she felt and smelled and tasted and sounded and the way his body responded to her. And the way she responded to him. The way he lost himself in her and wanted to get lost.
He takes a breath. "What happened last night—"
"Won't happen again." Her words are curt, clipped. He's said it to himself so many times, so many ways. But somehow hearing it from her, hearing her voice it so definitively makes it that much more real. And painful. He hates that it hurts, but he can't help but feel stung by the rejection. It's an emotion that he's not used to, not in his professional or personal life. But then again, she is unlike any woman he's ever met, and it only figures that she could make him feel this way, too.
He's suddenly angry with himself and with her. Why should he feel like shit? Why should he even give a damn?
He exhales, and forces himself to meet her gaze once again. "It's not just about last night. Your fiancé, the senator... he came by this afternoon. He made me an offer, to drop the case against Wolcott. To withdraw as lead counsel."
Her expression shifts. A look of shock crosses her face. "He what?"
"He asked me to pull out, in exchange for his support." He clears his throat. "For DA."
"And you accepted?" She says the words slowly, as though testing each syllable for its impact. Her voice is quieter than it has been since she walked into the office, and there is an edge of hurt, of disbelief, to her words.
He looks away again, his eyes going to the wall, to the cityscape outside the window, to the carpet at her feet. Everywhere but to her face. "Not officially," he says softly. "I said I would consider it."
Her breath hitches and there's a beat of silence. He feels his heart race as he waits for her to respond. When she finally does, he almost wishes she hadn't.
"I can't believe him, " she whispers, her voice barely more than a ragged breath. "He has no right to interfere like this. No goddamn right."
There's an ache in her voice, a desperation that Harvey can't ignore, and when he turns his attention to her face again, he can see that she is barely holding herself together, her lips pressed into a thin line, her jaw clenched, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. They aren't for him, he knows that, but the sight of them hits him hard, twisting at his gut.
She blinks rapidly, her fingers rising to rub at her temple as if she has a sudden headache. "I'm sorry, I just..." She sighs, turning her face away from him, trying to conceal the emotion on her face.
"I have to be practical about this," Harvey says. "After last night, the way I acted...I don't trust myself to be objective. And I can't do my job, if I can't be objective. My reputation...my career could be on the line if I don't fix this."
"I get that, but making a deal with Weston isn't the answer. He's not someone you want to owe favors to." She looks back at him, her eyes wet, pleading with him to understand. "I know there's a lot of animosity between us, but that doesn't mean that I don't respect you, and that I don't think you'd be an amazing district attorney." She steps forward again, resting a hand on the desk as she looks him in the eyes, and he's struck by how beautiful she is when she's not so fiercely in control of herself, how soft and open and honest her expression is. "But if you let Wes endorse you, you'll be his DA, Harvey, not yours. He'll own you. You'll owe him your loyalty, and that's a debt that he won't easily forgive. Believe me. I know him, better than anyone else. Once you're on his leash, you don't get off of it."
Her words make Harvey hesitate. He can tell from the intensity in her voice and the sincerity of her gaze that she means what she's saying, and the fact that it's her fiancé she's speaking so harshly about makes Harvey's unease about this situation only grow. But it also makes him curious about their relationship, about what's going on between them. How they work. If they're even happy. He thinks back to the background research he did on her, a waitress with a theater degree until Harding came into the picture and gave her an upgrade. What did it cost her to get here?
"Donna..." He starts, but then he stops, because what can he say? He has no idea what to make of any of this. Of her, or of the senator. Of himself and his feelings and how badly he just wants this whole goddamn thing to go away.
She lets out a soft sigh. "I know you think I'm being selfish. You're like Mike Tyson in his prime, and beating you in court would be the highlight of my career."
Harvey arches his eyebrow, surprised and a little intrigued by her words. He leans back in his chair, giving her a half-grin. "Mike Tyson in his prime, huh?"
She rolls her eyes, a slight smile tugging at her lips. "Yes, you insufferable ass. You're the best." She hesitates, the smile slipping from her mouth, and her expression becomes serious once again. "You don't need Weston Harding or any of his bullshit politics. You've got the skill and the conviction. If you'd just stop thinking about the outcome and focus on the fight..." She shakes her head. "Please, just...give me one more chance. We can try again and do it properly this time. We came in a little hot and heavy, but we can reign it back." She smiles. "I can keep my hands to myself."
She holds his gaze, waiting, her expression so full of hope and pleading that Harvey is struck with how damn difficult it is to say no to this woman. How, even after all of this, even knowing how complicated everything has gotten, he wants nothing more than to say yes to whatever she's asking.
And before he can think better of it, he says, with a wry grin, "It's your feet that I'm most worried about. Can you keep those to yourself?"
A laugh escapes her and it sounds almost like a sob, her body relaxing and the tension in her posture disappearing. She lets out a long, deep exhale and closes her eyes. When she opens them, she looks back at Harvey, a warmth in her gaze that wasn't there before, a genuine, unreserved smile on her face, and a moment of silence passes between them before she says, "Yes. I think I can manage that."
"Okay," he says softly. "We'll try this again."
And, just like that, everything changes. The air between them feels different, lighter. Harvey can feel himself smiling back at her, even as a part of him remains uneasy. Because whatever it is that's happening between them, it isn't simply about winning and losing. He doesn't know what the hell it is, exactly, but it feels a whole lot bigger than that, and it scares the hell out of him.
"Okay," she says, and her smile grows as she watches him, seeming relieved, and he's hit with a pang of guilt that she had so much anxiety about this. But then she clears her throat and straightens up, all business again. "I should get back."
She starts to walk toward the door and Harvey rises to his feet. "Donna, wait."
She pauses, glancing back at him questioningly.
"I have one condition." He takes a step closer to her and looks her in the eye. "We're going to write up and sign a Non-Fraternization and Professional Conduct Agreement. For both of our sakes. So we can do what needs to be done on this case. Without any... unnecessary drama."
Donna doesn't respond for a long time, but he can see that she's considering his offer. And when she does speak again, there's an edge to her voice that he didn't expect. "Are you serious?"
He holds her gaze. "It's non-negotiable. You want me back on this case, that's how we'll do it. Take it or leave it."
She narrows her eyes slightly, studying his face for a moment. "Fine. I'll draft it tonight and send it over for your review."
"No. We'll draft it together. Right now. And we'll both sign it."
There's another pause as they continue to stare each other down. It feels like some sort of test, like she's waiting for him to break and give in, and he's determined not to. Finally, she says, "You don't trust me?"
Harvey feels his mouth twitch slightly. "You said yourself, unless it's in writing you won't be held to it." He gestures at his desk with his head, raising an eyebrow. "Come over here."
Her gaze lingers on his for a second longer, but she walks towards his desk, coming around to his side and perching herself on the corner of it. She picks up one of the pens from his holder and holds it out to him expectantly. He takes it from her and reaches for one of his yellow legal pads, flipping it open to a blank page. He begins scribbling out the first draft of their agreement, her watching him intently the whole time. When he finishes, he places the paper down in front of her and hands her back the pen.
Donna studies the page for a moment before putting pen to paper and scribbling down a few sentences, making small edits. He leans back in his chair and watches her, admiring her graceful handwriting and her thoughtful consideration of his words. She adds a couple more sentences, and then hands him the paper. "Here's how I would have put it," she says quietly, almost shyly.
Harvey takes the page from her and scans what she's added to their contract, a smile forming on his face as he reads through her words. "Both parties shall refrain from any form of physical contact, including but not limited to handshakes, hugs, or any other gestures that may be deemed personal in nature," he recites aloud, his voice laced with amusement. "Handshakes? Really?"
Donna bites her bottom lip to keep from laughing. "I saw the effect my foot had on you in that deposition, Harvey. I'm just ensuring that we don't get into another compromising situation."
Harvey arches an eyebrow, but continues reading. "Both parties shall refrain from prolonged glances, heated eye contact, or any other non-verbal communication that may suggest a personal or romantic interest."
He lowers the page and gives her a skeptical look. "I can't look at you?"
Donna grins at him, and there's that spark in her eyes again, and he wonders briefly if she's doing this just to mess with him. But she says, "You can look at me. Just not like you want to have me for dessert."
He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning back, shaking his head. "We have to strike that part. It's completely unreasonable, or else add a clause about you dressing like a nun." He gives her dress a pointed look, the hem riding just above her knee. "I can't be responsible for how my face reacts to all of that...exposure."
Donna laughs, and he realizes it's the first time he's ever heard her laugh like this. He decides he wants to hear it again. And again and again. It's infectious. He can't help but smile in return.
"Fine, take it out."
They spend the next couple of hours fine tuning their agreement. It's a mess, of course. It's messy and it's ridiculous and it's more complicated than any non-fraternization contract should be. But Harvey is surprisingly okay with that. This situation between them is messy and complicated and ridiculous, so it only makes sense that their contract is, too.
It's close to eight p.m. by the time they're done. And it feels strange and intimate to have her sitting on his desk while they're negotiating an agreement about not wanting each other, a document that will protect them both from acting on whatever this insane thing is that keeps happening between them. It's absurd. He can't believe this is something he actually needs to protect himself against, but here it is.
Harvey finishes reading over their draft one last time and then holds the pen out to her.
"All right," he says. "I think that's as good as we're going to get it. You happy?"
Donna takes the pen from him and leans forward to read over his shoulder, and he's very aware of the warmth of her body and the way she's close enough for him to feel her breath on his neck. He holds very still, afraid that any sudden movement might bring their bodies even closer, and that would definitely be breaking their new rules before the ink is even dry on the page.
After a few minutes, she sits up straight again and says, "I think you should initial the edits. Just so I can be sure that I haven't manipulated you."
Harvey stares at her for a moment, wondering if he's ever met another person with this kind of confidence and presence, someone who can take charge of any situation so easily, without batting an eye, without breaking a sweat. He's fascinated by it. He wonders where she learned to be so sure of herself. He wonders how she got so good at it. He wonders why she hasn't taken over the whole damn city yet. He wonders... a lot of things, when it comes to this woman. And he finds that he's starting to actually care about getting answers to those questions. Which again, breaks the rules they just created.
He picks up a red pen from his desk, uncaps it, and initials their revisions in the corner of their document, making sure she sees each stroke. She smiles at him and it's almost flirty, and it feels dangerous, like this whole damn situation is a loaded gun and someone needs to unload the magazine and throw all the bullets out of the window because they're fucking crazy if they think this isn't going to explode in both their faces.
But when she looks at him like this, like there's no one else in the world she'd rather be looking at, Harvey can't seem to find a good enough reason to stop.
"Anything else?" He turns his head towards her, their faces only inches apart.
She holds his gaze, her eyes searching his. And then, her gaze flickers down to his lips, and there's something in her expression, something...
She leans in and kisses him.
It's a gentle, soft kiss, her lips barely touching his. He freezes. His body stiffens and his eyes flutter shut, his mind reeling as he processes the feeling of her lips on his. And it's all wrong, completely wrong, and he knows he should pull away, and push her away, and tell her off for crossing this line that they just spent the past two hours meticulously writing, but...
Fuck it.
He gives in. He gives up. He cups her face in his hands and pulls her closer, his lips parting hers, their tongues sliding against each other in a way that makes them both moan, and the world feels like it's spinning, and Harvey forgets that he's supposed to be rational, that he's supposed to say no to this. Because he's kissing her again. And she's kissing him back, her hands sliding around the back of his neck and through his hair. The contract that was supposed to be the only thing to keep him sane crumples between their bodies. And she feels so damn good against him, and everything about her, every single goddamn thing, feels so right, and he wonders if this is what falling in love with a hurricane is like.
And then it's over. She's pulling away from him, breathless, and her lips are swollen, and her cheeks are flushed, and she's looking at him like she wants to kiss him again.
She doesn't kiss him again, though. She picks the pen up from where he dropped it on his desk and scrawls her signature at the bottom of their contract, under the words that forbid the very act that she just initiated. And it feels like a joke. It is joke. This whole goddamn situation. Because what kind of woman would do this? Kiss a man, break their rules, and then sign the very piece of paper she just defiled.
She puts the cap back on the pen and lays it down gently on top of the page. Then she slides off of his desk, straightening her dress as she does, and she walks out of his office without a backward glance.
Harvey sits there in shock, his chest heaving and his heart pounding as he stares at the space where she stood a moment ago. She kissed him. She kissed him. She...kissed...him. And she left him. Just like that. No explanation. No apology. No...nothing.
He wants to go after her. He wants to yell at her, he wants to demand to know what the fuck that was. He wants to pull her close and kiss her again. He wants to do so much more than just kiss her. But instead, he stays where he is, unable to move. He sits in his chair, staring at their crumpled contract lying on his desk. At her signature written at the bottom, just below the line where he's supposed to sign.
After several long minutes, he picks up the pen, hovering over the page, and for some reason he thinks of Harding. Of the look on his face when he talked about Donna. The possessiveness of his actions. Donna's obvious discomfort and hurt at the senator's interference in her case. The postponement of their wedding, which Harvey knows can't be purely to do with him or the Wolcott case.
And, despite every ounce of common sense and rationality screaming in his head that this is a monumentally stupid decision, he lays down the pen and decides not to sign the goddamn thing.
III
The elevator dings, and Donna steps into the penthouse hallway. The doors slide shut behind her with a soft hiss. The air in the foyer is cold and sterile. Everything is in its place. Nothing out of order. Perfect and pristine. Like Wes.
Donna closes her eyes for a moment, collecting herself before walking through the living room and into Wes' study. The door is ajar. Wes sits at his desk, the lamplight casting shadows over his features as he types something on his laptop. His face is stoic. Serious. Unreadable. But Donna knows the subtle cues of his expression well enough to see the frustration beneath the mask. His eyes are narrowed, the lines around his mouth tight. He looks tired and worn down and tense, as if he's carrying a burden far too heavy for his frame.
His gaze flickers to the door when Donna pushes it open, and his expression shifts, his face relaxing slightly as she steps inside the room. His eyes roam over her, taking her in. Assessing her. She can't tell what he's looking for, and she hates that. She hates not knowing. It makes her feel uncertain, and vulnerable, and so, so small.
"Donna," he says quietly. "Come in." He closes the laptop, then leans forward, clasping his hands in front of him on the desk. "Have you eaten?"
Donna shakes her head, stepping into the room. She perches herself on the edge of one of the chairs facing him.
He gives her a small, gentle smile. "Should I order something for you?"
She doesn't answer. She stares down at her hands folded neatly in her lap. Her engagement ring glints in the light. She twists the ring absently. "I spoke to Harvey Specter this evening." Her voice sounds more accusatory than she means it to.
Wes stiffens almost imperceptibly at the sound of Harvey's name, a muscle in his jaw flexing. His smile vanishes. "What about?"
"The deal you offered him."
Wes' face is impassive, his expression carefully composed into one of cool indifference. His silence is telling. He's not even going to attempt to deny it.
"Why would you do that, Wes?" Donna asks, struggling to keep her voice steady. "You know how much this case means to me. How important it is for me to prove myself against someone like Harvey." She searches his face, trying to understand why he would betray her like this. "You knew that I'd be devastated if he stepped aside."
Wes exhales heavily, and Donna can tell that he's trying to control his temper. He closes his eyes, as if trying to find the patience to deal with a difficult child, before looking back up at her again. His eyes are cold and hard.
"I did what I thought was best, Donna," he says evenly. "This whole thing with Specter has become a circus. It's a distraction." His voice takes on an edge as he adds, "And it's distracting you from us."
"But that doesn't give you the right—"
He slams his fist against the desk, his patience evaporating. "I had to do something!" he shouts, rising to his feet. "You called me in the middle of the night on the verge of tears because of that man. I could hear the pain in your voice. You come home late, you barely sleep. I never see you anymore. And your behavior lately, this reckless, wild obsession you seem to have with beating this guy. It's not healthy."
He begins pacing the length of the study, running a hand through his hair. "Do you even realize what you're putting me through? I had to leave D.C. early. My legislative agenda for next year is in jeopardy because I have to be here to make sure that you're okay." He turns on his heel to face her. "How much more do I need to sacrifice for you?"
"I never asked you to sacrifice anything for me, Wes. You chose that." Donna takes a deep breath. She knows that if she's going to stand up for herself, she needs to stay calm and composed. "This is my career and it's important to me and you need to respect that."
Wes' jaw clenches and he steps towards her. "I do respect it." His voice is strained, as if he's forcing himself to stay in control of his anger. "I've done nothing but support you from the moment we met."
She holds his gaze, her eyes locked on his. She knows she should stop pushing, but she can't.
"I think your support has conditions. And I don't think this is about my career, or me, or Harvey Specter. This is about your ego, and you being able to control me and everything I do." She gets to her feet, staring defiantly at him. "I'm a grown woman and you have no right to interfere with my job like this. No right, Weston."
He takes a step toward her. He's towering over her, looming menacingly, his shadow engulfing her. The rage in his eyes is like a black hole. And Donna's words evaporate into the void.
"I'm the one with the ego? Is that really what you think?" His voice is soft, deceptively gentle, almost hurt. "What about you, who postponed our wedding for a goddamn case because you're obsessed with the idea that you need to win in order to prove yourself? And you think I'm controlling because I want my fiancée to be around? To have dinner together? To see each other? You're out of your fucking mind, Donna, if you think for a second I'm the one with an ego here."
There's an awkward silence. It lingers. He's waiting for her to respond, to deny it. But she can't. He's right, of course, he's always right. Her obsession with Harvey, with besting him in court, with proving that she's worthy of her promotion – she can see how it might appear to Wes, as some sort of egotistical, immature thing. As if she's trying to win some sort of imaginary battle against an invisible foe.
Except the foe isn't imaginary at all. He's standing right in front of her, breathing down her neck, watching her every move. She's just been fighting the wrong battle all along. And she will fight him on this. With everything she has. Because this case isn't about proving herself anymore, or winning. It's about taking back the pieces of herself that she's lost in the years of her relationship with this man, the parts of her that have withered under his scrutiny and control, that she has hidden and suppressed in an attempt to please him.
Wes steps back with an angry sigh, running his hands through his hair in frustration. "For God's sake, Donna..."
He starts in on her again, his voice rising with each sentence as he throws her faults in her face. She's heard it all before. She knows this spiel, this rant of his, word for word. He goes on and on about her recklessness and self-centeredness, about how much he does for her and how she needs to grow up, about how he doesn't understand why she keeps making things so difficult for him. The words that leave his mouth are calculated and cruel, designed to hurt and demean, and usually they would succeed in their efforts to strip away Donna's self-worth.
But tonight is different.
Because tonight, instead of letting it reduce her to tears, instead of letting it make her feel small and unworthy and utterly humiliated, her mind drifts to Harvey. She thinks of the way he looked at her in his office, impressed and maybe even a little awed by her additions to their contract. There was no condescension in his eyes, no patronizing amusement. Just respect and professional admiration. He looked at her like she was his equal.
And isn't that what she's always wanted? To be seen for who she is, not who she's connected to?
And the kiss. God, the kiss. It was stupid and reckless and insane. But she wanted it more than anything else in that moment. She thinks of the way Harvey had responded to her, the way his lips felt on hers. And she thinks about how much she liked the taste of him, how good it felt to be kissed like that. And instead of feeling guilty, instead of feeling ashamed, she feels...powerful. For the first time in years, she had done something purely for herself, something that had nothing to do with Weston Harding or his influence or his expectations.
It's a small thing, a fleeting moment of rebellion. But in the face of Wes' rage, it feels monumental. Like something has shifted, broken. A dam that was once held up by an endless supply of fear and need has started to leak, letting in the first trickle of sunlight through its cracks. She almost smiles as the realization dawns on her – that for all of Wes' anger and resentment, he has just lost a little of the hold he has over her, and he has no idea.
And if she can do something as brazen and freeing as kiss her opposing counsel without approval or significant remorse, well, what else is she capable of?