.
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Jessica had one rule she never deviated from: her security agents needed rest. It was essential for their safety, the safety of their clients, and the success of their missions. And as much as Harvey hated it, he was no exception to the rule. One day a week, he was forbidden to work, and Jeff Malone was on standby in case Donna needed to go out.
Naturally, Harvey had tried to negotiate his way out of it, as admitting he needed rest wasn't in his DNA.
So, the boss herself had come to Donna's property to remind him of this elementary rule in person, because despite his military training, Harvey had an annoying tendency to disobey orders.
.
It was a beautiful spring day, and Jessica couldn't help but admire the place as she crossed the vast garden. The flowers blooming along the path released a delicate fragrance, and the sunlight filtered through the leaves of the century-old trees, creating patterns of light and shadow on the stone-paved ground. She climbed the few steps up to the terrace where Harvey was waiting, and boy, he was terrible at discreetly ogling women. His eyes were glued to her, and to be honest, he wasn't even trying to hide his admiration, a wide grin lighting up his face.
His behavior didn't fail to amuse her, despite how much of a pain in the ass he could sometimes be, she had always had a soft spot for the man.
"Harvey," Jessica hailed him, placing her hand on the massive stone railing.
"Okay, I've got two words for you: absolutely beautiful," he said by way of greeting.
"How are you?" she asked, deliberately ignoring the compliment.
"Categorically stunning," continued the marine, his eyes mischievous.
"And Miss Paulsen?" she inquired.
"Regally hot," he replied, and the double entendre made her laugh for a second.
"You're an idiot," the boss concluded, with a tone both reproachful and affectionate.
"Jessica Pearson," he chuckled with playful eyes and a Cheshire cat smile.
The woman shook her head affectionately before getting back to business.
"How's it going?"
"Not too bad," he said, growing more serious. "Donna's been more receptive to my presence since that car followed us."
"I've heard Jeff doesn't have much to do when he comes to relieve you."
"She thinks I don't notice that she only goes out when I'm on duty, and you know me, I'm a gentleman, I pretend not to notice," Harvey added with irony.
Jessica let out a low laugh. "Harvey Specter and 'gentleman' in the same sentence? I've heard it all now. The upside is that she's starting to trust you, it'll make your job easier."
Harvey huffed, for although his relationship with Donna seemed to be improving, his frustration was evident. He leaned heavily on the railing, resting his elbows as if the weight of the mission was literally on his shoulders. His eyes stared at the lush garden below, as if seeking solutions to his problems there.
"You know what would make my job easier? If she knew about those fucking letters," he hissed through his teeth, low enough to ensure no eavesdroppers could overhear him. "Louis still refuses to tell her, Donna gets angry when the construction noise gets too loud, and I feel like I'm running a daycare. What am I supposed to tell her? Someone broke into this fucking house, Jessica, and I'd bet my ass it's that guy with the damn SUV with no plates."
Jessica moved closer, placing a calming hand on his arm in a soothing gesture. "Harvey, I understand your frustration, but we're not the ones who get to make that decision. You just need to keep her safe until we catch this guy. And for that, you need rest," she said in a reprimanding tone.
"I'm resting. Jeff's here once a week," Harvey replied, his tone weary.
"And yet, you keep telling him that his services aren't required."
"I can rest when I'm dead."
"Dead is what you're going to be if you don't," Jessica shot back, "Now, I appreciate your commitment to the job, but this isn't Afghanistan, Harvey."
"You think you have to tell me that?" he asked, turning to face her, his eyes hardening at the memory.
"No," her frustration rose at having to argue about the importance of rest with someone like Harvey, "I shouldn't have to."
He was a brave man, and of course, Jessica appreciated that. But he was more than that—he was reckless and sometimes bordered on careless when it came to himself. Mission first, no matter what, and let the chips fall where they may. In a way, it was true. Their job was risky, Jessica knew this better than anyone. But she also knew Harvey well enough to know that he would push himself too far and probably put his own safety at risk.
And although he was just an employee like the others, he was unlike anyone else in her eyes. Jessica wasn't entirely sure where it came from, but she couldn't help feeling an almost maternal concern for Harvey.
Maybe it was because of their age difference, making her see him as a younger protégé. Maybe because she didn't have children, but deep down, she often found herself imagining what it would be like to raise a child with a personality like Harvey's. Or maybe it was due to his own messed-up maternal figure, which had awakened a protective instinct in her, the kind she would have had for her own child.
Yes, there was something unique about Harvey—a blend of bravery and vulnerability. Both admirable and worrying. As courageous as he was fragile. He managed to hide it behind his tough Marine act, but Jessica knew better.
"Listen," she said, softening her tone but remaining firm. "I know our job is risky. But I need you to understand that your safety is just as important as our clients'. Take a break when you're off-duty. Don't just sit around here keeping watch all the time. Go work out outside the property, grab a bite to eat by the beach, anything, but get out of here."
Harvey remained silent for a moment, clenching his jaw more than necessary, clearly uncomfortable with where the conversation was headed. "I'll try," he sighed, resigned.
"That's all I ask." She gave him an encouraging smile and turned toward the exit. "Take care of yourself, Devil Dog," she called out as she descended the steps, making Harvey smile at the mention of the Marines' nickname.
On his next day off, Harvey tried to take Jessica's advice and went for a run around the neighborhood. He threw on sweatpants, a hoodie over his t-shirt, and slipped his headphones into his ears. Before leaving the house, he made sure Jeff was properly in place for his shift and that the house would be well-guarded in his absence.
The construction would be finished in less than a week, and until that day, Harvey wasn't comfortable being too far away. So, he decided to stay in the vicinity and kept his route close by, just in case.
.
After an hour of running, Harvey felt drained of energy as he passed through the gate again. He was scrolling the news up on his phone while crossing the garden on his way to the house and didn't notice Max in his peripheral vision.
"Hey, Harvey," the little girl greeted softly, not wanting to startle him.
Hearing his name, the marine turned his head to find Max sitting cross-legged on the grass, surrounded by what looked like a scattered toy kit.
"Hey, Max," he said, forcing a smile, not wanting to draw Donna's ire again.
He had tried to avoid interactions with the child as much as possible. The house was big enough to limit contact, but sometimes it was inevitable.
"What's all this?" he asked intrigued, inspecting the disassembled toy in front of her.
"It's a Lego Batmobile," Max explained, her eyes sparkling. "Mom said I was too young to build it by myself, but I insisted." She lowered her head, looking disappointed, her red hair cascading over her shoulders. "But I think she was right, I can't do it."
Harvey hesitated for a moment. He loved children—their innocence and ability to find wonder in the simplest things—but his own feelings detachment rarely meshed well with kids, who were like emotional time bombs. Not to mention his experiences in Afghanistan, where innocent children had been caught in a tragic mission, leaving him with a deep aversion to these kinds of interactions.
"Today's your lucky day, I love Batman," he finally said with a slight smile.
The little girl's eyes lit up with renewed hope. "Really? You'd help me?" she asked excitedly.
Once again, Harvey hesitated as painful memories flooded his mind. Images of children who had suffered, the screams and cries amidst the chaos of war flashed before his eyes. But the worst part wasn't the screams, it was the silence that followed. When the dust settles, the guns are still smoking, and you realize some will never get back up.
But as he looked at Max's hopeful face, something inside him wavered. Even if he wasn't ready to face everything, he could at least make an effort to offer some comfort to this little girl who was simply looking for company. Mom was probably busy working with Louis or learning a script, and Dad…
Yeah, he was definitely going to build this fucking car.
Harvey took a deep breath, pushing aside the troubling memories, and sat down next to her. He took off his hoodie, staying in his t-shirt, as the sun was starting to heat up in the late morning.
The little girl, with her contagious enthusiasm, handed him the manual and began asking curious questions about the construction. Harvey started sorting the pieces, following the instructions with a focus that Max watched with fascinated attention and sparkling eyes. The moments of silence were often filled with the child's bursts of laughter, and to his surprise, Harvey found himself gradually relaxing.
Suddenly, Max's attention drifted from their nearly finished project, drawn by a ray of sunlight reflecting off the chain around Harvey's neck, making it sparkle.
"What are those shiny things around your neck?" she asked curiously.
Harvey, absorbed in assembling the pieces, followed her gaze and noticed his dog tags, which must have slipped out from under his t-shirt when he'd bent down. He paused for a moment, wondering how to explain them in a way that would make sense to a little girl.
"Oh, these?" he said, touching the tags with a bittersweet smile. "They're military dog tags. They're part of the uniform that soldiers wear. They help identify them and show their rank."
Max furrowed her brow, clearly intrigued. "Why do you wear them? You're not a military man anymore, right?"
Harvey smiled faintly at her innocent question.
There is no such thing as an Ex- Marine, kiddo.
"A Marine will always be a Marine, even when you're no longer on active duty. It's like a memory, something that reminds me of what I've done."
Max seemed to mull over his answer, her innocence not always allowing her to grasp the deeper emotions of adults. "So, it's like a special memory?" she asked, her gaze still fixed on the tags.
"Exactly, Max. It's a special memory."
As Harvey snapped the last pieces into place, he handed over the finally completed car. "And there you go! A Great Batmobile."
Max's eyes lit up with wonder. She carefully took the Batmobile, examining it from every angle, admiring each detail. "It's beautiful!" she exclaimed, her excitement overflowing.
He stood up and walked toward the house, leaving the girl to play with her creation, his mind starting to wander. Maybe memories, whether good or bad, could coexist. Maybe it wasn't so bad to interact with Max. Maybe he wasn't so bad with kids, as long as he didn't have to protect them.
.
Harvey entered the house and headed straight for the stairs to take a fresh shower when he heard Donna come out of the office and walk toward him, her steps quick, stopping in the large hallway in front of him.
"Hey—"
"Where were you?" She looked... angry, and Harvey wondered what he could have done between leaving and coming back.
"Not that it's any of your business, but I went for a run."
"I know you went for a run, Jeff told me. But your run usually lasts an hour, and it's been almost two hours since you left. Where were you?" She stared at him, arms crossed. Behind her, Rachel stood at the office door, giving him a pointed look, as if trying to send him a message.
Ah yes, the infamous overreacting Donna.
But Harvey still didn't understand what this had to do with him. He wasn't her family, they couldn't exactly call themselves friends, they barely tolerated each other in fact, so her drama queen act was completely irrelevant for the bodyguard.
"Donna, what's going on? Did something happen while I was gone?"
"No, nothing happened. It doesn't matter." She seemed to realize her reaction was exaggerated. "It's your day off. I don't need to know what you're doing," she murmured, apologetically.
She turned to go back to the office, but Harvey stopped her with a gentler tone. "For what it's worth, I was in the garden."
"What?" She turned back with furrowed brows, clearly surprised.
"The garden," he repeated, pointing outside with his hand. "Max needed help with a toy. Thank God I was there otherwise, that Batmobile would still be in pieces," he joked, trying to lighten the mood.
Donna was staring at him, her mouth slightly open and her head tilted like she was trying to process what he was saying, and damn, she needed to stop being so cute. He'd already admitted she was hot as hell, and he could handle that, but this half-pouting, half-adorable face? He'd soon need to bang his head against a wall to shake that image out of his mind.
Trying to hide his discomfort, he continued joking. "Now I'm going to go take a shower. In my bathroom. In my studio. On my floor."
The young woman rolled her eyes at his unnecessarily detailed explanation but finally turned on her heel and walked away for good this time.
.
Once Harvey was out of sight, Donna mentally kicked herself. What was she thinking? Her irrationality had taken over once again, and she hated it, especially when it involved Harvey. She had every right to be concerned about her daughter, and her friends were used to her temperament, accepting her as she was. But Harvey wasn't a friend. He was just... She didn't even know who he really was. Calling him an employee seemed too formal given their interactions, and calling him a friend was absolutely out of the question. But she had to admit she cared a little about him if she reacted like this. No. No, she didn't care about him at all. She didn't give a shit about the man. Honestly. She only cared because her safety depended on him, and she cared a lot about herself, so she had to know where he was. Harvey was essential to her well-being, that was the most logical explanation.
Ever since that car had followed them, she had to admit that the bodyguard's paranoia had its benefits. And she'd never admit this to anyone, but she did feel safer with him around. And if he had noticed she wasn't going out on his day off, he hadn't said anything.
Rachel's voice pulled her out of her thoughts. "You like him."
She gave her friend a disgusted look. "I don't, he's the king of assholes."
"You like the king of assholes," her friend teased, using her own words against her.
"I don't like him." She paused for a moment, thinking. "But I have to admit, he's... well-built. It's the first time I've seen him in a t-shirt, his forearms are almost as thick as my neck, jeez," she exclaimed, half-shocked, half-admiring.
Rachel burst out laughing at the dreamy look on the redhead's face. "He wasn't joking when he said his suit was a disguise."
Donna replayed the scene in her mind and had to acknowledge her friend wasn't wrong. Even though Harvey's gray t-shirt wasn't particularly tight, you could clearly see his pecs through it, and it was easy to imagine the toned abs underneath. Not to mention his shoulders. And his arms. And his hair, tousled with sweat. She cleared her throat, feeling heat rise inside her.
"What are you thinking about?" Rachel asked with a sly smile.
"When I first met him, the first thing I thought was that the vein on his neck would be the death of me. But now..." She marked a pause, biting her lower lip. "Now that I've seen all those veins popping on his arms, I'm so screwed."
"You know, speaking of veins, maybe they're popping... everywhere."
Donna's eyes widened, scandalized by the suggestion. "Oh my God, Rachel Zane, go wash your mouth out with soap."
"Oh, come on, you know I'm right."
"What I know is that I haven't had sex in weeks, and I seriously need to get laid before I throw myself at the Marine on the second floor," she sighed, dead serious.
Harvey had rarely seen such a luxurious store. Every detail seemed carefully curated to provide an exclusive experience, from the thick cream-colored carpet that absorbed every step, to the meticulously arranged racks overflowing with designer dresses.
At the back of the store was a large lounge area with a few dressing rooms, where velvet armchairs were arranged for companions to sit. The fitting rooms themselves were spacious and private, separated by thick, dark red velvet curtains.
Harvey stood at the entrance to the lounge, a few steps away from the dressing room where Donna was, as rigid as a statue, his hands clasped in front of him, jaw clenched. Everything about his posture revealed his military training: straight, almost at attention, every muscle perfectly under control. His broad shoulders, imposing stature, and ability to be present without taking up too much space made it seem as though he was guarding the store as if it were ready to explode. Even though the place was empty except for him, Donna, and the saleswoman, watching over her in such an intimate setting triggered something primal in him—a feeling he tried hard not to think about, burying it for now.
On the other side of the curtain, he knew Donna was changing. He could hear the faint rustle of fabric sliding over her skin, the movements she made to adjust the dress. Harvey took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus on surveying the place, but his willpower was being tested when the mental image of what was happening behind the curtain refused to leave his mind.
"Harvey, are you still there?" Donna asked through the curtain.
"I am," he replied, focused, his eyes still on the outside of the store.
"Can you come help me button up my dress?"
Harvey closed his eyes for a moment, his breath short. The lines between them were getting blurrier, and that was not good for his job. "No," he said abruptly.
"Don't be difficult," Donna scolded, not impressed by his gruff tone in the slightest.
"I'm not being difficult. I'm responsible for your safety, not your wardrobe."
The curtain parted slightly, revealing Donna's head. "Harvey. Look at me."
He complied, and their eyes met. He didn't let his disappointment show at not seeing her outfit, though his mind had already conjured a vivid image of what it might look like.
"I know you hate us being here, and if I have to wait for the saleswoman to come back to help me, plus bring me another dress, it's going to take even longer. So relax your Marine ass and come help me, so we can go home."
Harvey sighed but obeyed, acknowledging that she had a point. Now that the renovations on her house were finished, he knew she was safe there and was eager to head back as soon as possible.
He slipped behind the curtains to find Donna facing the mirror, her long hair already swept over one shoulder to give Harvey a clear view of the dress's closure. It was a long white summer dress, flowy around the legs but tight on the upper body, accentuating her hourglass figure and hips. It took all the will in the world not to grab her hips, not to slide his arms around her waist, which already seemed slim but would look even more tiny surrounded by his arms. Her shoulders and upper back were bare, and it was the first time he could see the full spread of her freckles across her skin—an image he wouldn't soon forget and yet another reason to smash his head against the wall.
He clenched his jaw, trying to shake off these thoughts, and focused on the dress. But when he noticed the long row of delicate buttons running down her back, he couldn't help but let out a sigh.
"Are you kidding me? There are at least 30 buttons!"
"Don't be a child," she retorted softly, watching him through the mirror.
.
Harvey sighed once more and began buttoning the dress, starting at the small of her back. It was the first time they had been this close, in each other's personal space, and for a brief moment, Donna regretted asking for his help. She could feel his warm breath against her neck, his fingers brushing her skin with each button he closed. She glanced at him again through the mirror, while his head was lowered, focused on the task, his brow slightly furrowed. She found herself unexpectedly fascinated by the delicate way his large, powerful hands handled the small buttons.
He didn't seem affected—not as much as she was, anyway—but then again, he was trained to show no emotion. How could she tell what he was feeling?
"I didn't apologize," she said softly, breaking the tension in the cramped space.
"For what?" he asked, without looking up, still focused.
"For what happened when you came back from your run," she murmured, her voice even quieter, embarrassed by the admission.
"You don't need to apologize, Donna," he replied in a rough voice. Hearing her name said in that way, she closed her eyes for a moment. The warmth she had felt a few days ago flared up again, burning intensely deep in her stomach.
She cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. "Of course, I do. I shouldn't have reacted like that. I'm sorry."
"I know."
"I never told you why..." Her words trailed off in the silence of the fitting room, unsure how to say what she needed to say.
"I know why," he said, much softer now, without a hint of reproach, as if he already understood what Donna was about to confess.
"Really?" she asked, surprised, raising her head.
Harvey fastened the last button of her dress before looking at her reflection in the mirror. He moved even closer, closing the already small gap between them so that she could now feel his warm breath against her ear. A shiver ran down her spine despite herself. Damn, that certainly didn't help the heat pooling in her stomach. Harvey stood so close she could almost feel the contours of his body behind her. Her heart pounded wildly.
He looked at her with a slight smirk, as if he knew exactly the effect he was having on her. "You're into me." His voice, of course, was dripping with innuendo and arrogance.
Thankfully, Donna was an exceptional actress and could keep her cool without faltering. "I'm not into you, Gunny."
Harvey let out a small, sarcastic laugh, but he didn't move an inch, while Donna tried to regain control of the conversation.
"I don't get involved with men I work with."
"So you would if I didn't work for you."
Donna raised her eyebrows slightly, a mischievous smile playing on her lips as she heard the challenge in his voice. "I don't know, Harvey. You know, I come from a very religious family, I don't sleep with just anyone."
This earned a low chuckle from the bodyguard, knowing as well as she did that she was clearly screwing with him, but he played along anyway. "Really? The type to pray every night, hands clasped, on your knees by the bed?" Harvey teased, turning toward her.
She turned to face him as well, and their noses were almost touching as they were close. Donna tried not to think too much about his breath brushing against her lips.
She looked him straight in the eyes, her expression deadly serious. "When I get on my knees, Specter, it's certainly not to pray."
Before he could respond, the saleswoman entered the area outside the dressing room, abruptly interrupting their heated exchange. Donna went out to join her, a satisfied smile on her lips, leaving Harvey alone in utter confusion, his mind reeling.
Point to Donna.
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