A/N: Smut and feelings ahead. Let me know your thoughts :')
When Harvey wakes up, he sees Donna sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the couch, her thighs flat on the surface. A soft, loose-fitting black shirt covers her upper half while a pair of zebra-print yoga pants hugs her toned legs, ensuring pure comfort.
The sun sheds its gold upon her, illuminating her near-angelic features and highlighting her luscious lips, which are stained red from the berries she is snacking. Harvey draws a deep breath of appreciation, his smile coming involuntarily.
In Donna's lap is a book, and her hungry gaze devours the words written on each page with the vigor of a dog gnawing on a chew toy. Her right hand is listlessly playing with her hair as if she were in thought, and her left supports her head.
Deciding not to disturb her peace, Harvey walks into the kitchen, where he turns on the coffee machine. While it hisses to life, he grabs smoked salmon from the fridge and arranges thin slices atop some toasted bread, adding a generous layer of creamy avocado.
As he pours the coffee into his mug, he feels Donna hug him from behind, one arm crossing high over his chest, the other around his waist. She presses the side of her face between his shoulder blades, and he smiles instantly at the contact.
"Hi," she murmurs with a deep sigh, kissing his naked back. She lets the kiss linger, as though it has to hold an eternity of love in it. Then she kisses it again, sending a shiver of need down his spine.
"Hi yourself," he whispers, taking Donna's hand off his chest and brushing it against his lips as he leans back into the redhead. "Did you sleep well?"
"Felt lonely."
Harvey turns around in her arms and puts one hand on her cheek, holding it there, as he strokes lightly over the soft skin with his fingertips.
Donna's smile starts behind her eyes and travels to her lips—a smile challenging the brilliance of the sun. She rubs her face against his palm, her heart overflowing with tenderness and love.
He smiles back at her, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. When he lets his hand fall, she catches it and guides it to her mouth, pressing a long, damp kiss to his palm.
His free hand cradles her nape and pulls her against him, while his right hand reaches lower on her spine, to the hem of her shirt. Donna presses her hands flat against his chest.
"I missed you," she coos. "When did you get in?"
"3 am," he muses, not entirely sure. "Samantha thinks we have a strong case. We both do."
The first few days after they found out about Louis and Sheila, Harvey solely focused on Lucy's wellbeing, accompanying Donna to the hospital, making sure their goddaughter had everything she needed.
Then he started digging into Louis' case, and became almost obsessed with the idea of taking legal actions, poring over documents, police records, personal files—anything he could get his hands on—day in and day out.
Donna figured it was his way of coping with the loss, the uncertainty regarding Lucy. She didn't say anything, because she knew she needed to let him do this. And there was also a huge part of her that wanted him to do it.
But he looks exhausted to the bone. He looks like a man who spent day after day riding hard with little sleep. He looks like a man waiting to be beaten. And she can't help but worry about the toll this has taken on him.
The sight of him makes her exhale a sigh of sadness but also sympathy. "When was the last time you actually had a good night's sleep?"
A vein at his temple pulses under his skin as he speaks, and she feels his hands trembling. "Donna…"
"Harvey, I know how much you want to be there for Lucy, but you can't take that case. You know they won't let you. You're her guardian. That makes it a conflict of interest."
"That's why I'll let Samantha handle it."
"So, you won't—"
"Oh, I will," he exclaims. "But I won't represent Lucy." He walks over to the sideboard by the door and grabs a folder lying atop of it. "I will represent her." He throws the folder on the counter, then takes a sip from his coffee as he watches Donna inspect the folder's contents.
She lets out a gasp of surprise. "I didn't know there was someone else involved in the incident."
"Yeah, well, neither did I until I had Vanessa look into it."
He puts his mug down and taps the photo, attached with a paperclip at the top of the document Donna is holding, with his finger.
"Cleo Holmes. Pedestrian. Hit by the same man moments before the fatal collision. She stumbled away from the scene, not knowing she would end up in an induced coma an hour later because of the injuries she sustained. Couldn't remember a damn thing when she woke up." Harvey's jaw tightens. "Police didn't even assume she was involved. Fucking amateurs," he scoffs.
Donna's eyes widen as she processes the revelation. "What made her remember?"
"They call it post-traumatic amnesia. Can last from minutes to months. Lucky for us, it didn't last that long." Harvey looks at her, his gaze so intense that Donna fears his head will explode. "One way or another, Donna, I'm putting that bastard behind bars."
"On what grounds?"
"Aggravated vehicular homicide," Harvey replies. "We now have additional evidence of his reckless behavior and can argue for more severe charges and a stronger case for conviction. He caused harm to multiple individuals, not just Louis and Sheila, which means I can have them impose stricter penalties on that asshole, both legally and socially."
"So, what's our next move?"
"We build a solid case against the driver. Bring Cleo in as our plaintiff and use her testimony to paint a vivid picture of the driver's recklessness and disregard for human life. Samantha will join the action as Lucy's guardian ad litem, and we make sure the jury understands the full extent of the devastation he caused." He pauses, letting Donna digest the words. "We also decided to bring a civil lawsuit against the people who contributed to this whole thing by serving alcohol to an already intoxicated person."
"Can you prove that?"
Harvey nods. "There's actual video footage. Took Vanessa a while to find it."
"And what about the driver's defense? Last week, you told me they're amazing at their job. Gonna fight tooth and nail."
"Well, that was before I knew about Cleo. This woman… She's the ace up our sleeves." Harvey's expression hardens. "Let them try. Every lie, every loophole they attempt to exploit will be exposed by us. We owe it to Louis, Sheila, and Lucy to make sure justice is served."
Donna stays silent for a moment, absorbing the full weight of Harvey's announcement. Then she says, "Speaking of Louis... His mother reached out to let us know that his body was released to the family for burial yesterday. They already made arrangements with the funeral home two weeks ago and they—"
"When?"
"This Friday."
"Okay. The trial doesn't start until next week."
"You're sure you can handle this?" she asks, her voice soft and caring. She puts her hands to his waist, holding him, her eyes fixated on his face.
"I'm fine, Donna," he replies, his gaze gentle and his voice deep. "Have you talked to Dr. Rivera?"
"I have." Donna's smile appears instantly. "And she said Lucy is doing so well, she doesn't see a reason why we can't take her to the funeral, at least for two hours."
Over the last few days, they noticed their goddaughter's growing attachment and clinginess. Every time one of them tried to step away, Lucy's cries filled the room, her small fists clutching at their clothes as if afraid they might disappear.
Concerned about her emotional well-being, they turned to one of the nurses for guidance. She explained the concept of trauma bonds, emphasizing how Lucy's recent experiences—the loss of her parents, the upheaval of her life, and the unfamiliar surroundings of the hospital—had left her feeling vulnerable and in need of reassurance.
It made Donna and Harvey understand they are not just Lucy's caregivers but her lifelines—the anchors that keep her tethered to the world amidst the storm of grief and uncertainty. Made them recognize the importance of allowing her to say goodbye and begin the healing process alongside them.
"She also said it won't be long now until we can bring Lucy home," Donna tells him.
"Home," Harvey echoes. "I guess we need to talk about what that really means."
"You and me," she whispers, feathering her lips across his. She pulls back a little, looking at him. "And Lucy."
"Mm, you know that's not…"
He reaches around her, placing his palms against her back, and pulls her closer and closer until his arms envelop her and her breasts are pressed against his chest.
"I know what you mean, but we can't go back to Seattle."
"You wanna move back here permanently? To New York?" he muses.
"Harvey, home is wherever I'm with you," she begins, a smile resting coyly on her lips, "but I don't think it would be fair to Lucy to separate her from her parent's resting places. I want her to be able to go see them whenever she misses them, feels alone…" Donna's smile turns into a smirk. "Or whenever she's fed up with us and needs someone to vent to. Someone who doesn't talk back."
He laughs softly at her remark. And then he becomes quiet, but not in a way as if he is mulling over the pros and cons of their living situation. It is more like he stepped on a mechanism that transports him to a point in his memories he doesn't want to be.
"Tell me what you think," Donna murmurs as she trails her hands through his hair, finding the rich texture and letting the strands seep through her fingers.
"I think…" He sighs like an old man with the burdens of the entire world on his shoulders. "I don't have to visit my mom's grave regularly to feel close to her, but I'm a grown man and Lucy is… I think Louis wouldn't care what we decide as long as she remains with us, but she should grow up in the place he loved most, around family." A loving, somewhat sad smile spreads to his eyes. "She should be able to fall in love with Broadway the same way he did, see her favorite opera at the Met, experience The Nutcracker during the holidays."
"The Nutcracker?" Donna's smile stretches into both cheeks. "Could you even handle having another theater geek in the family?" she teases, her hand moving in tender circles across his back as she speaks.
"I'll make an effort," Harvey says nonchalantly, gently pushing her against the kitchen counter. "Anything for my girls," he breathes, his hands delighting in the curves beneath Donna's shirt.
She giggles. "Your girls, huh?"
"Mm-hm," he hums, "My girls."
He cups her buttocks and lifts her easily. She wraps her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips and rocks against him with a wicked little smile playing about her mouth.
"Your coffee will get cold," Donna observes as he sets her on the kitchen counter and stands between her legs.
"Like I care," he chuckles.
Harvey drops a kiss on the sensitive skin just beneath the shell of her ear, continuing downward to the crook of her neck. He licks the soft skin there before closing his lips against her flesh and sucking gently.
His hand rests on her right breast, and he begins to massage it, rolling her nipple between his fingers without baring skin, and even through the fabric of her shirt, the heat of his caress jolts her.
The whoosh of air Donna sucks in too quickly fills her lungs, then comes gushing out with a strangled moan. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as she shifts her bottom, trying to alleviate herself of some of the building need.
And then she is arched completely back, shirtless, bowed like a ballet dancer on the counter, with Harvey's mouth on her. He rakes his teeth down her rib cage, over her stomach, stopping when his tongue dips into her navel.
Without direction, Donna lifts her hips, allowing him to push the yoga pants and her panties down. A soft cry of pleasure slips from her mouth as Harvey's fingers run through her slick folds.
Slowly, he pushes two fingers inside, taking his time until he can't go further. He keeps them still for a moment, letting his tongue flick over her clit before closing his lips around it. Her hips move then, and he feels a hand in his hair urging him to get on with it.
"Always so impatient," he mumbles against her, his hot breath spreading out and sending chills over her already sensitive skin.
His words are met with another swift tug at his scalp, but before she can retaliate further, he lets his fingers curl and drag back along tight walls. He speeds up his pace, fingers moving in time with his mouth in a relentless pursuit of her pleasure.
"I need you inside me," she whimpers in an almost demanding tone, "Please."
He retreats his fingers, pushes his pajama pants down, and kicks them off. Then he kisses her, deeply, fully, as he finally sheathes himself within her, growling against her mouth as her velvety walls pull him deeper.
For a moment, he waits, reveling in the pleasant heat that engulfs him, warm and incredibly addicting. Not a second later and he's grasping at her waist, fingers pressing hard into her skin.
The first roll of his hips, slow and unhurried, sends a series of shockwaves through Donna's body, and she leans into him instinctively, sighing.
"You feel so good," he breathes. He's at her neck now, nipping at the skin to create a necklace of bruises. "I love you."
Suddenly consumed by the overwhelming urge to prove his words, Harvey loses himself altogether. Gone is the languid cant of his hips as he thrusts with fervor, making her moan long and low with need and cling onto him for support.
With one hand resting at the curve of her waist, his other hand slides upwards to play with Donna's chest, palming her breasts and tweaking her nipples. He groans, her name tumbling past his lips, lost in the junction of her neck.
It's too much for her; the way his fingers pinch at her nipple, the way his lips latch and suck at her neck, the drag of his hips—she comes undone, chanting his name like a mantra.
Her voice breaks off into a moan, detached and almost incoherent, but he hears her nonetheless. Because not long after he's pausing against her for a moment, his own liquid arousal coats her fluttering walls.
The vibrations of his voice as it rumbles against the damp skin of her neck send shivers down her spine, and she can only assume that he's uttering her name. Body already lax, she simply plays with the short strands of hair at the base of his neck.
The rock of his hips soon simmers down to a standstill, and then he remains as he is, buried in her sex with both his hands resting at her thighs, fingers kneading, a pleasant silence enveloping the air.
As Donna looks at him, her mouth waters, and her pulse goes haywire. Harvey's skin tightens beneath her feather-light caress as she trails her fingers over his chest.
"We should do this more often," she whispers. His lips quirk into one of his patented smiles, and his gaze is so intense, every beat of Donna's heart echoes through her and she feels herself melting away.
On an exhale that accompanies a low moan, Harvey pulls out, letting the cold air come in between their two bodies. Donna gasps as an emptiness settles around her. She finds herself already yearning again for the contact only he can provide.
"I'm sorry, Donna, I didn't…" He drops his head for a moment in a reflecting attitude, and then, raising it, lets out a frustrated sigh. "I was so caught up in this damn case, I feel as though I've neglected you."
Her finger grazes his firm jaw, a picture of a young Harvey flashes her mind. She can't believe how far they've come. From being strangers to best friends to lovers and then finally husband and wife.
She takes hold of his cheeks and smiles. "I do not feel neglected, Harvey," she says softly. "You're doing what must be done. My fear is that you are doing too much."
Harvey looks at her with an intense yet tender stare, swallowing the lump of emotion rising in his throat.
"You are often so tired that I expect your face to drop into your dinner plate. You need to rest."
"I can't rest. Not now, Donna."
"I know. But when all of this is over—the funeral, the trial, and we found a place to live—I just want you to be…"
"A loving husband?" He grins.
"You're always a loving husband," she counters, a low giggle punctuating her words. "What I meant to say was, I just want you to be a bit more mindful of your needs."
As she slips off the counter, the softness of her breasts presses into the wall of Harvey's chest. Working her hands slowly downward, Donna smoothes her tender fingertips over each and every indentation of his abs, causing them to contract.
Groaning, he shifts his hips out of her reach to put some distance between them. But as he looks deep into her eyes, his expression seems to want to inspire her body into another wave of internal convulsions, his ardent gaze making her squirm.
Harvey smirks. "I think I should be more mindful of your needs," he rasps, a wealth of meaning in his tone and posture.
"You can start by drawing me a bath," Donna responds, voice husky, pupils dilated.
"Do you mind if I join you?"
"That's the whole point," she purrs.
