194. {c} [suits] (harvey/donna) six degrees of separation [5/prologue+6+epilogue]
six degrees of separation ; r ; 2,336 words ;
you see them out with someone else
they aren't okay but they'll both pretend anyway
a/n: this is for abvj who donated to fandomaid
Oh shit, she thinks.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
She can't do this, can't believe what just happened; as his breathing penetrates her ears from beside her. She can't think - can't focus. She can still feel his hands on her skin, the way he feels pressed against her, the predatorial look in his eyes as the moisture of his mouth sticks to her flesh. His hand touches her thigh possessively, reassuringly; she isn't sure and she's afraid to look at him and attempt to discern it.
A panic rises inside of her and she feels like she's suffocating, his body heat making her skin flush even with limited contact. She moves away from him, her panic catching in her throat as she locates her underwear and bra on the floor beside the bed. She hears him shift behind her and the bed creak as it's relieved of it's weight that had been on it before.
"Where's my dress?" She asks him softly as she tucks a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.
He hesitates and swallows; she can see the wheels turning in his eyes, hates that she knows him so well in this moment, "it's, uh-"
"Where is it?!" She snaps.
His footsteps sound heavy as he rushes in the darkness to help her look for it. The light sneaking in from the hallway catches his frame as he wallks by the opening in his bedroom to look on the other side of the room. The light in the room flips on and she halts her movements, her eyes narrowing on him as he offers her a silent apology with his own gaze.
"Donna," he starts, his voice trailing off as he bends over to pick her clothing up off of the floor.
She swallows, "Harvey, please don't."
"Donna," he repeats her name, this time warningly.
A sigh passes through her lips, the simple sound of her name from his mouth making her concede. She notices her dress in his hand and she expels a sigh of relief, her footsteps slamming on the hollow floor as all of her weight rocks to her heels. Her hand wraps around the material of her dress, his other hand promptly circling around her wrist.
"Donna," he says again, pleading with her for her gaze to meet his, "I know what you're thinking-"
"If you know me so well, then why did you let me do this?"
"Because I meant what I said, and I was being selfish with you but it doesn't make it mean any less. I wanted you and I love you, but I'll be the bad guy if you need me to be," he says, eyebrows raised pointedly.
"This was a horrible idea," she replies, "how are we going to work together after this?"
She watches his head tilt downward, chin bowing to the floor as he slowly releases his grasp on her, "we don't have to go back."
"You're with Zoe and I'm with Ted," she reminds him.
She feels his eyes on her as she pulls her dress on over her head. When she catches his eyes again she notices that he's pulling a pair of jeans on, his bare chest red from where her nails have been. For a moment she feels like maybe she was trying to stake claim to him, wonders if it was about love for her too.
He sighs from across the room, "we don't have to be."
"Harvey," she starts, an annoyed sigh catching in her throat. He watches the pad of her fingers slide over her face, her annoyance and confusion settling onto her features. She knows where this is going, she just never thought Harvey would be one of those guys to take it there. "Let's not pretend now that our feelings matter, okay? They don't. However we feel about each other hasn't been a problem and it shouldn't start being a problem now. Our lives have been fine the way that they are, intertwining without actually touching."
"Don't make it mean less than it is," he counters, "it might not have meant anything to you but don't try to speak for me."
"We don't do this, Harvey. We don't talk about our feelings, whatever we feel for each other doesn't need to be said," she reminds him.
She finds her heels on the floor and puts her feet into them mid-step, the sound of his footsteps only 2 paces behind her. The sound of her heels echoes off of the walls of his apartment, the noise so loud in the momentary silence between them. She knows Harvey, knows that he doesn't say anything that isn't worth being said, that sometimes silence is his biggest enemy. She knows that all she has to do is look at him to get all of his answers so she refuses to look at him, refuses to for fear that she will see something in him that she doesn't want to.
She hears him slam his foot onto the floor from behind her as he tries to put on his own shoes, in a rush to stay caught up with her without actually having to hesitate much; "well, maybe it should be something that's talked about."
"Not now, Harvey," she replies sharply.
His hand wraps around her wrist as he turns her towards him. Her eyes catch his but she doesn't hesitate to notice that he has on a t-shirt and jeans; he just looks like a normal guy. A Harvey Specter she's never seen before - a Harvey Specter she knows she could get used to seeing if she stands there for much longer. His eyes silently plead with her for a just a beat and then -
"Why not?"
"Because it can destroy us," she snaps.
He sighs, takes a half step back to put some space between them, "but what if it doesn't? What if it only makes what we have that much better?"
"We can say what if every day for the rest of our lives, Harvey, but what if it doesn't work?"
"Then at least we can say we tried," he counters with a smirk.
She laughs half-heartedly, "you're really fucked up, you know that?"
"Thank God I have you," he says softly, "I don't want to know what it would be like without you."
"And that's why, Harvey," she offers him a slightly apologetic smile, fingers reaching up and touching the crinkle in his eyes softly, "that's why we can't do this."
Harvey's knuckles wrap on the door that he's become relatively familiar with over the months, the cold chill of the outside air biting his ears. He feels bad doing this now, nearing 1 am, especially after they parted ways on such amicable terms - both seemingly happy - but he knows that it needs to be said and his motto has always been better now than later. The entire night is weighing on his shoulders, heavy on his chest, and it's only been minutes since the evening made its appearance.
His mind won't stop replaying the feeling of Donna's legs wrapped around him or the way that her mouth lingers against his. He knows that he needs to be sure before he tells Zoe anything, he should have no doubts in his mind, shouldn't willingly give it all up for nothing, but she deserves to know. She deserves to know that he's in love with another woman and when given the opportunity he cannot deny her.
Zoe open the door, hair disheveled from sleep and eyes barely two slits acknowledging his presence; his mouth is fixed with an apologetic smile, hands buried deep in his pockets. One look at him, and she knows, she doesn't really divulge that she knows but he knows that she does. She may not know the details, may now know how far it's gone or just how much past the line he and Donna have gone, but Zoe knows that the feelings have reached his surface.
"Hey," she mutters tiredly, accent thicker when laden with sleep.
He expels a breath, the energy to a grace her a sad smile escaping him, "hey."
He watches her swallow - "do you want to come in?"
"No," he lightly shakes his head in protest, "this won't take long."
"Okay," she acknowledges and hugs herself tighter for warmth.
"I had sex with Donna," he starts, straight to the point without much remorse beyond apology exposed in his tone, "I wish that it would have happened right but it's didn't. I want to say that I made a mistake but I can't. I didn't want to hurt you but I think we both know that I've been in love with her for a long time, I just didn't know how to love her the way that she deserves. Thank you, Zoe, for teaching me patience and showing me how to show someone else that I care."
He watches her face drop as she absorbs his words and he feels badly for his actions; he still can't regret it.
"There's a child involved, Harvey," she reminds him.
He lightly nods his head because he feels badly about the way things are; he lifts a watery gaze to hers, "I know. I'm sorry."
"Are you going to come tell her goodbye?" Zoe fights tears, hugging her middle tighter.
He buries his hands into his pockets again; "do you think I should?"
"I think she'd like that."
"Then I'll come by and see her tomorrow," he concedes.
He lightly nods his head and steps up on the top step, hesitantly leaning in and pressing his lips against her cheek. Her salty tear clings to his lip, but he doesn't hesitate as he steps backward and puts more space between them. He can still taste Donna, slowly mixing with salt.
He disappears down the street, determined to at least make Donna hear him out.
Donna digs through her purse for her keys as she approaches the door to her building, the cold chill of the night air beating on her skin and making her steps increase in an attempt to arrive faster. Her keys jingle in her purse but she suddently stops, her hair caught in the wind, when she sees Ted sitting on her doorstep. She didn't think he'd come back, doesn't even know that she wanted him to in the first place.
"Ted?" She asks, her heels pounding against the concrete as she comes to a halt; there are feet between them but she can still pinpoint his gaze as it lifts from the ground to look at her, "what are you doing here?"
He pushes himself to his feet, his frame tall and tired as he nonchalantly stretches, "I didn't think we should leave things like that. Maybe I can come inside and we can talk about it?"
"Ted," she says with a sigh, hand pulling out of her purse without the keys and swiping over her forehead, "I don't think there's anything left to say."
"There's plenty left to say," he says, words soft as he takes a heavy step towards her to close the space. For some reason, she flinches. She doesn't know why because he's never laid a hand on her, no man ever has, but she's afraid to really think about it. She's afraid it's connected to Harvey, to her boss, her friend, the man whose hands were on her less than an hour ago. "We said too much. Or not enough. I don't know."
"It isn't like you to be indecisive," she observes.
He lightly shakes his head in response, "no, it isn't. So, can I just come inside so we can talk?"
"Just say what you need to say. Out here. Before we go inside," she challenges. He usually concedes when she challenges him. It isn't usually the quality that she looks for in a man.
"Donna, I want to fix this. It was a mistake, okay? You just," he sighs, rocks back on his heels as he drags a hand through his hair, "you told me about that guy you dated who made you choose between him and Harvey. I didn't get it. I didn't get why because you can balance your work and us, you really can do it all. But then I saw him tonight and I could just see it, how possessive of you he was with you and me thrown into his face. That isn't your fault. Hell, it probably isn't even his fault."
"Probably?"
"You are a very charming woman, Donna, and I don't think any man is immune to them," he admits, slight smile tugging on the corner of his mouth.
She relents, a little bit of the tension in her shoulders leaving them, "go on."
"I was going to ask you to marry me tonight," he says as he takes a step forward. He expels a breath from deep within his chest. She can almost feel the heat smooth within the space between them. "I'm sorry I was an idiot. But I still want to ask you..."
His voice trails off for a moment as he bends down on his right now, looking up at her. She knows what's coming next, doesn't think she can prepare herself for this moment, can't even clear her head enough to determine what her answer may be. She isn't ready for this; her brain tries to tell her body to take a step back but she can't move, doesn't move.
"Donna, will you marry me?"
She's silent for a long moment, the quietest that the streets have ever been surrounding her. She wants to move but she can't. Wants to form words but she can't. And that's when she hears the voice behind her, the shuffle of the shoes on the concrete as whoever is present closes in on them.
A familiar laugh echoes against the brick of her apartment building, "you've got to be fucking kidding me."
you see them out with someone else
they aren't okay but they'll both pretend anyway
a/n: this is for abvj who donated to fandomaid
Oh shit, she thinks.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
She can't do this, can't believe what just happened; as his breathing penetrates her ears from beside her. She can't think - can't focus. She can still feel his hands on her skin, the way he feels pressed against her, the predatorial look in his eyes as the moisture of his mouth sticks to her flesh. His hand touches her thigh possessively, reassuringly; she isn't sure and she's afraid to look at him and attempt to discern it.
A panic rises inside of her and she feels like she's suffocating, his body heat making her skin flush even with limited contact. She moves away from him, her panic catching in her throat as she locates her underwear and bra on the floor beside the bed. She hears him shift behind her and the bed creak as it's relieved of it's weight that had been on it before.
"Where's my dress?" She asks him softly as she tucks a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.
He hesitates and swallows; she can see the wheels turning in his eyes, hates that she knows him so well in this moment, "it's, uh-"
"Where is it?!" She snaps.
His footsteps sound heavy as he rushes in the darkness to help her look for it. The light sneaking in from the hallway catches his frame as he wallks by the opening in his bedroom to look on the other side of the room. The light in the room flips on and she halts her movements, her eyes narrowing on him as he offers her a silent apology with his own gaze.
"Donna," he starts, his voice trailing off as he bends over to pick her clothing up off of the floor.
She swallows, "Harvey, please don't."
"Donna," he repeats her name, this time warningly.
A sigh passes through her lips, the simple sound of her name from his mouth making her concede. She notices her dress in his hand and she expels a sigh of relief, her footsteps slamming on the hollow floor as all of her weight rocks to her heels. Her hand wraps around the material of her dress, his other hand promptly circling around her wrist.
"Donna," he says again, pleading with her for her gaze to meet his, "I know what you're thinking-"
"If you know me so well, then why did you let me do this?"
"Because I meant what I said, and I was being selfish with you but it doesn't make it mean any less. I wanted you and I love you, but I'll be the bad guy if you need me to be," he says, eyebrows raised pointedly.
"This was a horrible idea," she replies, "how are we going to work together after this?"
She watches his head tilt downward, chin bowing to the floor as he slowly releases his grasp on her, "we don't have to go back."
"You're with Zoe and I'm with Ted," she reminds him.
She feels his eyes on her as she pulls her dress on over her head. When she catches his eyes again she notices that he's pulling a pair of jeans on, his bare chest red from where her nails have been. For a moment she feels like maybe she was trying to stake claim to him, wonders if it was about love for her too.
He sighs from across the room, "we don't have to be."
"Harvey," she starts, an annoyed sigh catching in her throat. He watches the pad of her fingers slide over her face, her annoyance and confusion settling onto her features. She knows where this is going, she just never thought Harvey would be one of those guys to take it there. "Let's not pretend now that our feelings matter, okay? They don't. However we feel about each other hasn't been a problem and it shouldn't start being a problem now. Our lives have been fine the way that they are, intertwining without actually touching."
"Don't make it mean less than it is," he counters, "it might not have meant anything to you but don't try to speak for me."
"We don't do this, Harvey. We don't talk about our feelings, whatever we feel for each other doesn't need to be said," she reminds him.
She finds her heels on the floor and puts her feet into them mid-step, the sound of his footsteps only 2 paces behind her. The sound of her heels echoes off of the walls of his apartment, the noise so loud in the momentary silence between them. She knows Harvey, knows that he doesn't say anything that isn't worth being said, that sometimes silence is his biggest enemy. She knows that all she has to do is look at him to get all of his answers so she refuses to look at him, refuses to for fear that she will see something in him that she doesn't want to.
She hears him slam his foot onto the floor from behind her as he tries to put on his own shoes, in a rush to stay caught up with her without actually having to hesitate much; "well, maybe it should be something that's talked about."
"Not now, Harvey," she replies sharply.
His hand wraps around her wrist as he turns her towards him. Her eyes catch his but she doesn't hesitate to notice that he has on a t-shirt and jeans; he just looks like a normal guy. A Harvey Specter she's never seen before - a Harvey Specter she knows she could get used to seeing if she stands there for much longer. His eyes silently plead with her for a just a beat and then -
"Why not?"
"Because it can destroy us," she snaps.
He sighs, takes a half step back to put some space between them, "but what if it doesn't? What if it only makes what we have that much better?"
"We can say what if every day for the rest of our lives, Harvey, but what if it doesn't work?"
"Then at least we can say we tried," he counters with a smirk.
She laughs half-heartedly, "you're really fucked up, you know that?"
"Thank God I have you," he says softly, "I don't want to know what it would be like without you."
"And that's why, Harvey," she offers him a slightly apologetic smile, fingers reaching up and touching the crinkle in his eyes softly, "that's why we can't do this."
Harvey's knuckles wrap on the door that he's become relatively familiar with over the months, the cold chill of the outside air biting his ears. He feels bad doing this now, nearing 1 am, especially after they parted ways on such amicable terms - both seemingly happy - but he knows that it needs to be said and his motto has always been better now than later. The entire night is weighing on his shoulders, heavy on his chest, and it's only been minutes since the evening made its appearance.
His mind won't stop replaying the feeling of Donna's legs wrapped around him or the way that her mouth lingers against his. He knows that he needs to be sure before he tells Zoe anything, he should have no doubts in his mind, shouldn't willingly give it all up for nothing, but she deserves to know. She deserves to know that he's in love with another woman and when given the opportunity he cannot deny her.
Zoe open the door, hair disheveled from sleep and eyes barely two slits acknowledging his presence; his mouth is fixed with an apologetic smile, hands buried deep in his pockets. One look at him, and she knows, she doesn't really divulge that she knows but he knows that she does. She may not know the details, may now know how far it's gone or just how much past the line he and Donna have gone, but Zoe knows that the feelings have reached his surface.
"Hey," she mutters tiredly, accent thicker when laden with sleep.
He expels a breath, the energy to a grace her a sad smile escaping him, "hey."
He watches her swallow - "do you want to come in?"
"No," he lightly shakes his head in protest, "this won't take long."
"Okay," she acknowledges and hugs herself tighter for warmth.
"I had sex with Donna," he starts, straight to the point without much remorse beyond apology exposed in his tone, "I wish that it would have happened right but it's didn't. I want to say that I made a mistake but I can't. I didn't want to hurt you but I think we both know that I've been in love with her for a long time, I just didn't know how to love her the way that she deserves. Thank you, Zoe, for teaching me patience and showing me how to show someone else that I care."
He watches her face drop as she absorbs his words and he feels badly for his actions; he still can't regret it.
"There's a child involved, Harvey," she reminds him.
He lightly nods his head because he feels badly about the way things are; he lifts a watery gaze to hers, "I know. I'm sorry."
"Are you going to come tell her goodbye?" Zoe fights tears, hugging her middle tighter.
He buries his hands into his pockets again; "do you think I should?"
"I think she'd like that."
"Then I'll come by and see her tomorrow," he concedes.
He lightly nods his head and steps up on the top step, hesitantly leaning in and pressing his lips against her cheek. Her salty tear clings to his lip, but he doesn't hesitate as he steps backward and puts more space between them. He can still taste Donna, slowly mixing with salt.
He disappears down the street, determined to at least make Donna hear him out.
Donna digs through her purse for her keys as she approaches the door to her building, the cold chill of the night air beating on her skin and making her steps increase in an attempt to arrive faster. Her keys jingle in her purse but she suddently stops, her hair caught in the wind, when she sees Ted sitting on her doorstep. She didn't think he'd come back, doesn't even know that she wanted him to in the first place.
"Ted?" She asks, her heels pounding against the concrete as she comes to a halt; there are feet between them but she can still pinpoint his gaze as it lifts from the ground to look at her, "what are you doing here?"
He pushes himself to his feet, his frame tall and tired as he nonchalantly stretches, "I didn't think we should leave things like that. Maybe I can come inside and we can talk about it?"
"Ted," she says with a sigh, hand pulling out of her purse without the keys and swiping over her forehead, "I don't think there's anything left to say."
"There's plenty left to say," he says, words soft as he takes a heavy step towards her to close the space. For some reason, she flinches. She doesn't know why because he's never laid a hand on her, no man ever has, but she's afraid to really think about it. She's afraid it's connected to Harvey, to her boss, her friend, the man whose hands were on her less than an hour ago. "We said too much. Or not enough. I don't know."
"It isn't like you to be indecisive," she observes.
He lightly shakes his head in response, "no, it isn't. So, can I just come inside so we can talk?"
"Just say what you need to say. Out here. Before we go inside," she challenges. He usually concedes when she challenges him. It isn't usually the quality that she looks for in a man.
"Donna, I want to fix this. It was a mistake, okay? You just," he sighs, rocks back on his heels as he drags a hand through his hair, "you told me about that guy you dated who made you choose between him and Harvey. I didn't get it. I didn't get why because you can balance your work and us, you really can do it all. But then I saw him tonight and I could just see it, how possessive of you he was with you and me thrown into his face. That isn't your fault. Hell, it probably isn't even his fault."
"Probably?"
"You are a very charming woman, Donna, and I don't think any man is immune to them," he admits, slight smile tugging on the corner of his mouth.
She relents, a little bit of the tension in her shoulders leaving them, "go on."
"I was going to ask you to marry me tonight," he says as he takes a step forward. He expels a breath from deep within his chest. She can almost feel the heat smooth within the space between them. "I'm sorry I was an idiot. But I still want to ask you..."
His voice trails off for a moment as he bends down on his right now, looking up at her. She knows what's coming next, doesn't think she can prepare herself for this moment, can't even clear her head enough to determine what her answer may be. She isn't ready for this; her brain tries to tell her body to take a step back but she can't move, doesn't move.
"Donna, will you marry me?"
She's silent for a long moment, the quietest that the streets have ever been surrounding her. She wants to move but she can't. Wants to form words but she can't. And that's when she hears the voice behind her, the shuffle of the shoes on the concrete as whoever is present closes in on them.
A familiar laugh echoes against the brick of her apartment building, "you've got to be fucking kidding me."