This fic has been a long, long time coming and I owe this prompt to mieh who asked for it literally years ago. I've had this first part sitting on my computer for too long so I'm posting now to keep myself accountable and keep the momentum going. I anticipate this to be just a few chapters of light-hearted Darvey goodness.
Harvey is only home for a few minutes before Donna comes barrelling through his front door, brazenly unlocking it with her own key. He watches her, amused, as she wheels in a small suitcase while balancing two suit bags over one arm, clutching a clipboard in the other and keeping her phone tucked between her ear and shoulder.
She acknowledges him with a quick nod and, when he stands from his bar stool to help her, she shakes her head, continuing to rattle off a list of instructions.
"Yes, the flowers are arriving at ten and caterers will be here by eleven, so we need the wait staff here by noon. Yes, noon. There might not be many guests but they're mostly lawyers, so everyone will need to be well lubricated."
He grins at her words and assertiveness. She's been like this all week, even more so than usual. She dashes off to his bedroom and Harvey distracts himself by fixing them both a drink as her voice echoes though his condo, along with the distinct sound of his wardrobe being flung open and furniture being rearranged.
After a few minutes, the chatter stops, punctuated by silence and huffing. Eventually, Donna returns to the living area, her hands empty. She kicks off her sandals, leaving them under a bar stool. He hands her a glass of scotch and she visibly relaxes.
"I didn't realise you were moving in."
She glares at him with only a hint of playfulness.
"Sorry, is it not safe to speak yet?"
Another glare. This one less friendly.
Since most of his furniture has been temporarily placed in storage to make space for tomorrow's set-up, Donna hops up onto his kitchen island. Harvey joins her, leaning against the bench, bottle of scotch in hand.
"Remind me why I agreed to the dual role of maid of honour and wedding planner?"
"For the glory?"
The corner of her mouth tilts up. She tips her head back and swallows the sliver of scotch in one gulp. Harvey dutifully refills her drink.
"I swear, I'll be more relieved when Mike and Rachel say I do than they will be."
Harvey snorts. "Oh, come on. You never back down from a challenge. You live for this."
Donna frowns, which Harvey interprets as an admission that he's right.
"The best man never has to lift a finger," she grumbles, swirling her glass.
"I threw a raging bachelor party, didn't I?"
"I'd hardly call drinks with Mike, Alex, Louis and Harold raging."
"Mike passed out."
"At ten pm."
Harvey smirks, enjoying the way the tension seems to slowly disappear from Donna's shoulders. He likes having this effect on her. She might live for CIA-level organisation, but Harvey lives for this.
"I cleared out my apartment, don't I get best man credit for that?"
Donna glances around, finally taking in the emptiness of the space—a blank canvas.
"Kind of weird, isn't it?" she says. "Like a museum without any exhibits."
Her eyes dart around until they land on the wall of records that remains intact.
"Getting rid of them seemed like too much of a hassle," he explains.
Donna smiles softly. "A bit of character works."
Comfortable silence falls over them as they toy with their drinks. As Donna continues to examine the space for tomorrow's reception, Harvey takes the opportunity to openly admire the casual white flowy dress that she's changed into after work. It's warm, even with his AC on, and he rarely gets the chance to see Donna dressed down like this. He can't even remember the last time she stood next to him at a regular height without her stilettos on. And don't get him wrong, he'll never tire of the form-fitting dresses she dons at the office, but there's something to be said for a billowy sundress and the possibilities it has to offer.
Jesus. Get a grip.
Donna notices him staring but rather than verbally calling him out on it, she just lightly smacks his shoulder.
"So what are you and Rachel doing tonight?" he says, changing tact.
"Oh, not much. Drinks, naked pillow fights, trying on Mike's suits, the usual stuff."
Harvey cracks a wide smile. "And how do I wrangle an invite?"
Nudging his elbow with her bare foot, she pointedly ignores his question and counters with her own, "What are you and Mike going to do?"
"Knowing Mike, I'll just be listening to how much he loves Rachel all night."
Laugher erupts from Donna's mouth. "Sickening, isn't it?" They share a smile. "I should probably clear out of here before Mike arrives. Give you manly men your space," she says.
Harvey's beginning to regret this arrangement of sequestering the bride, groom and their wedding parties for the evening. No offence to Mike, but he'd much rather have Donna hang around while they make a dent in his bottle of scotch.
"Or," he says, reaching for the bottle next to her thigh and topping up their glasses. "You could stay for one more drink before the inevitable chaos tomorrow."
"Do not try and lure me to stay with the promise of a distraction. My focus needs to be razor-sharp tomorrow."
Harvey pushes off the bench and comes to stand in front of her. He holds a taunting finger out to her. "You used to be more fun," he says.
With a scoff, Donna reaches for her glass and takes a defiant sip, eyes locked on his. It's somehow adorable, stubborn and sexy all at once – a beguiling combination only Donna can pull off.
"So now you're staying?" he teases.
"Well I wouldn't want you to feel like a bad host."
They share a sip at the same time and Harvey isn't sure what to make about this sudden heat between them. Okay, definitely not sudden, but Harvey's feeling bolder around her than he has in years. It's like all the baggage they've accumulated in recent years doesn't seem to matter anymore.
Now we just have to make sure you don't fu—
Damn Mike. The wedding isn't for another eighteen hours. Harvey had promised he'd be on best behaviour. Well, he made that promise to himself, and he hates ever proving Mike right.
And yet…
Donna crosses one leg demurely over the other, forcing a respectable distance between them.
"Do you have your toast planned?" she asks.
Harvey knows what she's doing by changing the subject, but he indulges her. With a shrug, he says, "I figured I'd wing it. It can't be any more embarrassing than their last wedding."
"You mean when Mike was arrested?"
"Exactly. Expectations are low," he says with a wave of his hand. "You'd do well to remember that when you're stressing about the arrangements of chairs and canapés tomorrow."
She frowns again and it's even cuter this time around. "Do not mock."
Harvey holds up his hands. "No mocking." He softens his tone, "It'll be perfect, Donna. Like everything you do."
She watches him carefully. Harvey marvels at the fact that, even after all these years, she is still surprised when he compliments her. He really should do it more often.
They sip their drinks quietly until Donna realises the time and reluctantly sets down her empty glass. "I better go. Rachel's waiting for me at her place."
If Harvey were to analyse the moment, he'd say she was reluctant to leave.
"Let me walk you out," he says, though neither of them make any attempt to move from their positions.
"I know where the door is, Harvey."
He steps closer and Donna's knee brushes his torso. "I don't see you making any effort to use it."
Donna uncrosses her legs and Harvey knows that if he moved any closer, he'd be in the perfect position to spread her legs and step between them. He's playing with fire by being this close to her. He's feeling keyed up from the heat and, okay, the sundress too, but despite the undeniable charge of this moment, there's something oddly domestic about it too. And he feels compelled to kiss her goodbye before she walks out the door as if it were a daily, ordinary occurrence.
"Harvey," Donna says, and it sounds like both a warning and a question.
"Donna," he says. A challenge.
He takes that final step and Donna's legs part on instinct. It's unclear who moves in first, but later, when he's replaying the moment, he likes to believe that they meet each other halfway. Finally.
Donna's lips part almost immediately once his mouth is on hers, and unlike the night she kissed him in his office, there is nothing chaste or hesitant about the kiss. This kiss is even more reckless and impulsive, and he's reminded why they've scarcely touched each other in ten years.
Donna grips the collar of his shirt and Harvey slides his hands up her thighs, bunching her maddening sundress up around her hips. Donna breaks the kiss but only so she can guide his mouth to her neck and Harvey is once again oh-so-grateful for her assertive nature. His lips reach a spot that makes her shudder, and he feels his pants tightening as her pelvis grinds against his.
Harvey's mouth is ghosting along Donna cleavage and hand is poised between her thighs, edging towards her underwear, when they hear a loud knock on the door.
They spring apart when they hear Mike's voice from outside the apartment.
"Hey, Harvey, you in there?"
They lock eyes. Donna's entire body looks flushed; she's practically draped against the kitchen island. Harvey wants to get rid of Mike, lock his front door and never open it again, but then there's another knock, this one more insistent. Donna brings a hand to her mouth, covering her embarrassed smile. She readjusts her dress and slides off the bench while Harvey straightens his shirt.
Donna points to the door. Harvey mouths, "I need a minute," while gesturing to his crotch.
Donna grins, mouthing back bedroom, which does nothing to diminish his current state of arousal. Nevertheless, he hurries off to his room and tries desperately to think of anything other than almost fucking Donna on his kitchen island.
"Hey, Donna. How—uh, are you okay?" he hears Mike say. "You look flushed."
"So do you, you back on the bicycle?"
"What I meant to say was, you are glowing. Did you somehow get more beautiful and radiant in the last two hours?"
Mike's ass-kissing is the equivalent of a cold shower, so after a moment, Harvey steps out of his bedroom to join the two of them. "Hey, Mike," he says, as casually as humanly possible. "Donna was just leaving."
"Well, don't rush out on my account," Mike says.
"Rachel's waiting for me," Donna chimes in. "And Harvey has allowed me to borrow Ray's services for the day so I shouldn't keep him waiting too long either."
Donna looks remarkably more put together than she did moments ago. He allows himself a longing-filled glance at the kitchen counter. Mike sure has impeccable timing.
For now, Harvey actually does walk Donna to the door. He is itching to finish what they started, but any physical touch – even an innocent hug – will be enough to arouse Mike's suspicion.
"We'll talk tomorrow?" she says, hovering in the doorway.
"We'll talk," he assures her.
It's not even close to what he wants to actually say to her, but they keep it vague to save face in front of their audience.
"Bye, Mike," Donna calls out.
Before Donna leaves, they share one final look where everything left unsaid hangs in the air. Walking down the aisle with her is going to be downright torturous.