221. {c} [suits] (harvey/donna) a lot like love (3/?)
a lot like love ; pg ; 1,511 words ;
3, the date (part 2)
AU ; Harvey and Donna both have teenage children with an agenda all on their own
She can't exactly tell if it's the way his jacket hugs her shoulders as he walks her to the door or if it's the alcohol that has numbed her tongue, but her thoughts are a little hazy. She can't stop picturing what it would be like to grab his hand as they walk down the street, or if it would feel different for him to press his lips against hers. The corners of his mouth would touch hers in a smile, would make her feel like everything in the world was finally where it was meant to be. She thinks about it more often than she'd care to admit.
She thinks about what it would be like if it would be okay for her hands to linger on the lapels of his jacket, to straighten the knot in his tie and press her lips to his jaw before sending him on his way. She isn't an idiot. She knows that life is more complicated than she wishes it were. She knows that she has a daughter and he has a son. She knows that it's unlikely they would mesh together well, then their kids and their work would pose as a bigger problem.
Even though she knows these things, she can't help but let her mind wander to what it would be like to feel his skin beneath her fingertips and his warmth against her skin.
He smiles at her and, through her drunken haze, she nearly misses a step, twists her ankle, her heel disappears into a crack or something because she beginning to fall to the ground but he catches her. His arms are wrapped around her and one of his hands is digging into her hip while the other has, sardonically, captured her own; his fingers have managed to slide between hers like they are doing some kind of timeless dance she never really learned. She almost laughs aloud at the irony that she never learned the dance but they've been doing this one for so long that she's tired.
Some days she feels as though they exist in some alternate universe where the complexities of life are keeping them apart when they've possibly always strangely been meant to be. She must really be drunk now to be thinking like that. She hasn't allowed herself to think like that for years - not since he stood her up.
She knew the second that he told her about Theo that had been why he didn't show up. She understood in that moment that he was a vulnerable man, faced with a responsibility that he didn't feel entirely prepared for. She knew then that he was going to blur the line of boss and friend even more, and she was not going to pressure him with some silly date when he was suddenly a parent to a kid overnight. She was not going to make something so mundane such a big deal that he would shut her out. Not when she knew he would need her more than ever.
Sure, she felt things for him in the past. She maybe even felt as though she loved him - she does love him. She loves him dearly for always standing in her corner, for always being there when she calls him - for providing things for her daughter that she sometimes doesn't know how. And she thinks sometimes that if that's how she feels about him, then he must feel the same about her. He must feel like he owes her everything, like he could spend his life with her. After all, their teenage children are getting older, will be heading off to college soon and, God help them, they will be alone in their apartments without another person.
She fears for him being alone. He can't handle being alone with his thoughts. She recalls before Theo came into his life, a man who hardly if ever left the office. He had countless strings of women - faces without names only to be forgotten. She was not scared of him, but she was scared for him. She was afraid that he would be lonely forever. She was afraid that he'd latch onto the first woman he laid his eyes on and would leave her behind forever.
Okay, maybe her crush on him was bigger than she cared to acknowledge.
It's at her front door that he kisses her. He's still feeling confident after he hadn't let go of her so soon and she hadn't implied that she wanted him to. Or maybe she had and didn't realize so. He quickly pulls away from her, suddenly afraid that maybe he's doing something that she doesn't want. Her hand has a grasp on his bicep, the fingers in his tightening around his long digits.
"I'm sorry," he mutters and clears his throat, "I've wanted to do that for a very long time. I probably shouldn't have."
"No," she absently agrees - or disagrees, she isn't certain which, "I wanted you to."
"Thank you for tonight," he muses.
He must be drunk now, she notes. "I should be thanking you. I love working a room."
"And you do it quite well," he adds without missing a beat. She can't gauge where he stands, what he wants. Maybe they are on the same page after all.
"I should go. Chelsea is waiting, and it's late," Donna says.
Harvey pouts for a brief moment. "I should go home too."
There's a pause and she mulls over the latest events. He kissed her and they are both acting as though it hadn't even happened. She lingers in front of her door, so much space between her and the hardwood - even more space between her and Harvey. She swallows thickly, wondering if she should even mention it.
And just as she's about to open her mouth to bid him adieu, he grins like they've only just begun.
"Donna," he says playfully, corners of his mouth tugging upward as his eyebrows knit, "I want to see you again."
"You will," she reminds him. She knows exactly what he's hinting at, but she won't take hints about this. She wants full disclosure.
He rolls his eyes in return. He stares at her long and hard before adding, "I want to kiss you again."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" She asks immediately.
His smile becomes a frown, "no." She steps away from him then. She isn't even sure that giving this a try would be a good idea. There's so many factors. There's so many reasons for them not to. He steps a little closer, demanding her to focus, "but shouldn't we give this a shot? Shouldn't we say we tried rather than say that we were too scared to try at all?"
"You're drunk," she points out, "and you don't make the best decisions when you're drunk."
"I'm just honest when I'm drunk," he reasons, "I may finally be saying that I'm ready because I'm drunk. Or it could just be because I had a great time with you tonight. Even with everyone else in the room I couldn't stop looking at you."
"Most people can't stop looking at me."
He looks at her with a feigned incredulousness. "You can say no."
"Why don't you take tonight to think about it and if you feel the same way in the morning, we can revisit this conversation?"
She leans heavily on the doorframe and begins looking through her purse for her keys. She can tell by the look on his face that he isn't happy about her attempt to quickly flee the scene. He isn't really ready for it to end and she doesn't have it in her to deny him. Not now.
She doesn't look at him because she's afraid that she will lose her resolve. She hears him huff and that prompts her to lift her gaze to him. He swallows and his shoulders slump - "fine."
She finally finds her keys and dangles them in the space between them. Just as she's about to slide her key in the lock the door swings open to reveal way too many people on the other side. She narrows her gaze at the group, wondering what exactly they're up to. She doesn't trust the four of them together but she doesn't really know why.
"Hey, Dad," Theo calls from the couch.
"Good night?" Mike hints, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
"Great night," Harvey corrects.
Donna suspects there may have been a wink but she can't linger on it too long. It suddenly hits her like a truck that they are all sitting in her living room. "What are you all doing here? In my apartment?"
"You should come in," Rachel hints.
Harvey's eyebrows furrow in confusion, not exactly sure why Rachel is the one inviting him into Donna's home, but he isn't one to protest an invitation like this. He shrugs and presses his hand against the small of her back to pressure her. His eyes flit to her. "Alright."
3, the date (part 2)
AU ; Harvey and Donna both have teenage children with an agenda all on their own
She can't exactly tell if it's the way his jacket hugs her shoulders as he walks her to the door or if it's the alcohol that has numbed her tongue, but her thoughts are a little hazy. She can't stop picturing what it would be like to grab his hand as they walk down the street, or if it would feel different for him to press his lips against hers. The corners of his mouth would touch hers in a smile, would make her feel like everything in the world was finally where it was meant to be. She thinks about it more often than she'd care to admit.
She thinks about what it would be like if it would be okay for her hands to linger on the lapels of his jacket, to straighten the knot in his tie and press her lips to his jaw before sending him on his way. She isn't an idiot. She knows that life is more complicated than she wishes it were. She knows that she has a daughter and he has a son. She knows that it's unlikely they would mesh together well, then their kids and their work would pose as a bigger problem.
Even though she knows these things, she can't help but let her mind wander to what it would be like to feel his skin beneath her fingertips and his warmth against her skin.
He smiles at her and, through her drunken haze, she nearly misses a step, twists her ankle, her heel disappears into a crack or something because she beginning to fall to the ground but he catches her. His arms are wrapped around her and one of his hands is digging into her hip while the other has, sardonically, captured her own; his fingers have managed to slide between hers like they are doing some kind of timeless dance she never really learned. She almost laughs aloud at the irony that she never learned the dance but they've been doing this one for so long that she's tired.
Some days she feels as though they exist in some alternate universe where the complexities of life are keeping them apart when they've possibly always strangely been meant to be. She must really be drunk now to be thinking like that. She hasn't allowed herself to think like that for years - not since he stood her up.
She knew the second that he told her about Theo that had been why he didn't show up. She understood in that moment that he was a vulnerable man, faced with a responsibility that he didn't feel entirely prepared for. She knew then that he was going to blur the line of boss and friend even more, and she was not going to pressure him with some silly date when he was suddenly a parent to a kid overnight. She was not going to make something so mundane such a big deal that he would shut her out. Not when she knew he would need her more than ever.
Sure, she felt things for him in the past. She maybe even felt as though she loved him - she does love him. She loves him dearly for always standing in her corner, for always being there when she calls him - for providing things for her daughter that she sometimes doesn't know how. And she thinks sometimes that if that's how she feels about him, then he must feel the same about her. He must feel like he owes her everything, like he could spend his life with her. After all, their teenage children are getting older, will be heading off to college soon and, God help them, they will be alone in their apartments without another person.
She fears for him being alone. He can't handle being alone with his thoughts. She recalls before Theo came into his life, a man who hardly if ever left the office. He had countless strings of women - faces without names only to be forgotten. She was not scared of him, but she was scared for him. She was afraid that he would be lonely forever. She was afraid that he'd latch onto the first woman he laid his eyes on and would leave her behind forever.
Okay, maybe her crush on him was bigger than she cared to acknowledge.
It's at her front door that he kisses her. He's still feeling confident after he hadn't let go of her so soon and she hadn't implied that she wanted him to. Or maybe she had and didn't realize so. He quickly pulls away from her, suddenly afraid that maybe he's doing something that she doesn't want. Her hand has a grasp on his bicep, the fingers in his tightening around his long digits.
"I'm sorry," he mutters and clears his throat, "I've wanted to do that for a very long time. I probably shouldn't have."
"No," she absently agrees - or disagrees, she isn't certain which, "I wanted you to."
"Thank you for tonight," he muses.
He must be drunk now, she notes. "I should be thanking you. I love working a room."
"And you do it quite well," he adds without missing a beat. She can't gauge where he stands, what he wants. Maybe they are on the same page after all.
"I should go. Chelsea is waiting, and it's late," Donna says.
Harvey pouts for a brief moment. "I should go home too."
There's a pause and she mulls over the latest events. He kissed her and they are both acting as though it hadn't even happened. She lingers in front of her door, so much space between her and the hardwood - even more space between her and Harvey. She swallows thickly, wondering if she should even mention it.
And just as she's about to open her mouth to bid him adieu, he grins like they've only just begun.
"Donna," he says playfully, corners of his mouth tugging upward as his eyebrows knit, "I want to see you again."
"You will," she reminds him. She knows exactly what he's hinting at, but she won't take hints about this. She wants full disclosure.
He rolls his eyes in return. He stares at her long and hard before adding, "I want to kiss you again."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" She asks immediately.
His smile becomes a frown, "no." She steps away from him then. She isn't even sure that giving this a try would be a good idea. There's so many factors. There's so many reasons for them not to. He steps a little closer, demanding her to focus, "but shouldn't we give this a shot? Shouldn't we say we tried rather than say that we were too scared to try at all?"
"You're drunk," she points out, "and you don't make the best decisions when you're drunk."
"I'm just honest when I'm drunk," he reasons, "I may finally be saying that I'm ready because I'm drunk. Or it could just be because I had a great time with you tonight. Even with everyone else in the room I couldn't stop looking at you."
"Most people can't stop looking at me."
He looks at her with a feigned incredulousness. "You can say no."
"Why don't you take tonight to think about it and if you feel the same way in the morning, we can revisit this conversation?"
She leans heavily on the doorframe and begins looking through her purse for her keys. She can tell by the look on his face that he isn't happy about her attempt to quickly flee the scene. He isn't really ready for it to end and she doesn't have it in her to deny him. Not now.
She doesn't look at him because she's afraid that she will lose her resolve. She hears him huff and that prompts her to lift her gaze to him. He swallows and his shoulders slump - "fine."
She finally finds her keys and dangles them in the space between them. Just as she's about to slide her key in the lock the door swings open to reveal way too many people on the other side. She narrows her gaze at the group, wondering what exactly they're up to. She doesn't trust the four of them together but she doesn't really know why.
"Hey, Dad," Theo calls from the couch.
"Good night?" Mike hints, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
"Great night," Harvey corrects.
Donna suspects there may have been a wink but she can't linger on it too long. It suddenly hits her like a truck that they are all sitting in her living room. "What are you all doing here? In my apartment?"
"You should come in," Rachel hints.
Harvey's eyebrows furrow in confusion, not exactly sure why Rachel is the one inviting him into Donna's home, but he isn't one to protest an invitation like this. He shrugs and presses his hand against the small of her back to pressure her. His eyes flit to her. "Alright."