Hey there... If you don't like listening to girl's rambling, feel free to omit this part.

Yeah, so this is my first time actually publishing something and I consider myself lucky that it is happening here, that I created(!) a story about the most powerful couple in the world(!). But before you start, my dear reader, I need to tell you a few things:

- I am not native, therefore I am really sorry for all the mistakes you may find here. Grammar is my nightmare, I don't get it how people operate using so many tenses and a, an, the thing - literally makes no sense to me, but I tried to follow the rules I will probably never comprehend (hah, you ready for commas in all wrong places?). Also, I've got some kind of fetish for definitely-too-long sentences that follows me even in English, sorry if you find it not understandable.

- it didn't go through beta's hands, because I don't like asking people for favors and I didn't know to whom turn to...

- I tried to not read post 8x16 fanfics, so some little devil wouldn't make me unconsciously copy from them, but one or two contents from Twitter made me thinking (and I don't remember whose tweet gave me ideas, dumb me.)

- in my mind it's like third story in the row (we go back to my inability to write hahah), yet it works on its own just fine. Two-shot. Just sayin'.

Sooo... have fun or whatever positive you can get from it, I'll just log off the internet to... Do other things, not hide (not hide, lmao).

"I cannot take it anymore," she actually growls just as the elevator door closed behind them. Her breath slightly accelerated, face flushed. The metal box begins its sluggish expedition to the top of the building and after few seconds she breaks, "Jesus, ride to your place always take ages."

"Told you it's gonna end this way," he chuckles, watching her closely in the small space they found themselves in. "You want me to strip you off of these?"

"How? With your teeth?" she doubts him as she eyes his full hands. He wiggles his brows at her, wearing matching smile that speaks lengths about how bad he would like to do this. Despite the difficult situation she reciprocates, not really able to resist him. "Ugh, we're close. I withstand."

"C'mon, I know you want it," he tries temptingly, because he notices her resolution faltering. She is capable of keeping her face straight, although her hands tightly clutching the strap of the handbag give her away. She bites her bottom lip, aware how easily she exposed herself. Generally not the one to make such mistakes, but right now she just cannot.

"But here? It feels weird. And I've got nothing underneath."

"It's clean in here, you're not going to catch anything," it is entertaining to watch her struggling with her own need. Like observing a child who keeps itself from eating a marshmallow, because it knows the next one is coming if the previous one is whole when examiner returns. So kid is going to touch, roll, play, lick the sweet or cover its eyes – literally everything to restrain itself from biting the candy. She looks just as adorable to him.

He makes quick glance at an electronic screen above set of buttons on his left, numbers shifting slowly and currently they aren't even in the middle. "We are on the sixth floor"

She makes prolonged 'hmpf' sigh, bit sharper than a normal huff she makes, something in the middle between yeah, I know and I. Need. Them. Off. Now. Mentally she is just not ready to admit defeat, being so close to the final destination. She has done it many times already, okay? She can make it now as well. I'm Donna. I can keep myself in check. Duh.

"Hey, but can you imagine how good would it feel if you just – "

"Screw you, Harvey," she curses as she finally – fucking finally – bends to take off these two sexy bitches off her feet. Moan that follows might be misunderstood for other activity going on inside and Harvey cannot help but laughs at her. She sends him threatening glare getting upright again, pair of black, extremely high Louis Vuitton heels in her palm. But she has to confess - flexing and unflexing her arches on the cool elevator floor is heaven.

His mirth dies eventually, but he cannot stop himself from saying, "This is how it ends when Merida pretends to be Cinderella's sister." He leans in for a kiss she rejects to give.

"Since when Harvey Specter is an expert of princesses? Never seen you walking around and quoting Beauty and the Beast before," she teases, arching her nicely trimmed brow at him, hazel iris meeting chocolate ones.

"I've got the niece," he defends himself with famous Cheshire Cat grin, adjusting his hold on a weighty paper bag containing their dinner from that shitty Thai Place she loves, obviously. His other hand is occupied with a dry cleaning, five sets of suits hanging over his left shoulder, fingers wrapped around hangers. Before they left the car and bid Ray goodnight Donna insisted on carrying something inside, but being aware how painful just walking was for her, he strongly disagreed. He proposed to take her purse too, yet proud woman she is, she didn't even wait to let him finish to cut him off.

"Why Merida though?" she inquires after a few seconds pause, leaning against a mirror behind, her head tilted. She has two nieces, therefore she is well familiar with Disney productions and her curiosity was peaked - why he pictures her this way. Intense gaze lingers between them as they stare at each other.

His smile loses its edge, he shrugs arms somewhat too casually and looks away, suddenly feeling caught off guard. Even now he is not used to talking about his thoughts concerning her – especially these meek and timid ones – in all the openness she deserves. He knows she does. So he tries, for her. "She's brave... She refuses to be told what she can and what she can't do. She fights for what she wants, for her freedom – "

She feels her expression softens as he continues, greatly taken by the depth of his words and the amount of admiration she gets.

" – as well as her family. She's a warrior, not reluctant to protect who's hers.." he senses change in the air inside the steel cube as his eyes meet hers again, something heavy settling onto molecules they breath. Wanting to uplift the mood, he finishes, "and you know, she's red," and sends her a wink. Although the corner of his mouth, the one that is slightly higher than the other, makes it obvious how fervently he adores her.

Right now, in that moment, she couldn't crave to kiss this corner more.

And so she does, shaking her head slightly, her face betraying whole range of emotions she feels for this man: endearment, pride, joy, tenderness, gratitude and love, love, love. Her handbag set on the floor, her palm lands on his free shoulder (still clutching the pair of heels but whatever), another curls at his nape as her lips crush upon his, still bit parted after his speech. She sucks on his upper lip (the upper girl) and he soon just as eagerly reciprocates by doing the same to her bottom (the bottom boy). They hear ping sound elevator does when it reaches its destination, the twentieth floor, but they couldn't care less. He deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue into her mouth, the only way he can reach for her as his hands are occupied. Surprisingly enough, he is also first to let out muffled moan, savoring the art her skilled lips create with his.

A noise of closing door echoes in small space and she stretches out her hand from his arm just in time to avoid being squeezed and still successfully stall them, similarly to what he did three weeks ago when he run to her place to voice what he feels for her. Truth be told, he didn't utter nothing concrete (other than oh fucks, Donnas and yeses or words regarding his needs and wants to do with her) till late night hours but it's the gesture that counts. And when he did, holly shit, it was beautiful.

Focusing back to her previous activity, she bites lightly on his upper lip, loving what it does to his body as well as hers. Her fingers dance in his hair, making a mess of his hairstyle. She is pretty wrapped around him right now and can feel his manhood starts to grow, much to her pleasure. He whispers her name into her mouth and hot shiver runs through her body, hitting her center. Soon it's her time to moan, the height difference working in her favor, when he draws a little circle around her tongue with his own and then sucks a bit on it with his mouth. He certainly is blessed with some skills himself.

The sound begins again and they both growl breathlessly. She stops the door with her hand, heels making click with metal. She is separating herself to catch dose of air and so is he, leaning back in his position. He looks deliciously disheveled and she loves seeing him like that. Okay, she loves him a lot in general, but like this it hits her harder. He smiles at her innocently, a contrast it blazes making her chuckle as she hooks the handbag on her shoulder and exits the elevator. Harvey follows after her, they are just mere steps from his home.

He hopes it'll be also hers in the near future. Not that he needlessly wants to rush things, but being without her is just plainly tedious and he waited almost fourteen years now to take a risk, so he sure as hell wish to make up for lost time. Thirteen sounds better though, so he sticks to this label.

This corridor isn't the best architectural work, she muses as usual while she makes first steps down the hall almost felling his warm puffs on her neck. Like honestly – Harvey's neighbor has a door almost vis à vie the elevator and his is at the very end of the corridor, even hidden in the short - like three or four feet long – niche. Who made that.

"For the record," she halts in her tracks - her voice melodiously playing within long walls - and she turns toward him. "I was not Cinderella's sister. It's just that these heels were the last available pair and happen to be my size and I was checking them out for some time and… well, I needed to have them, they deserved me," she explains in her own cocky way, the I'm Donna style.

"Oh well, if you wouldn't wait so long and bought them earlier, you may actually get the size that fits your feet," he says as they remain glued to the spot. He bumps his hip with her. "Come on, food is getting cold."

She starts walking again, "This model has to have changed sizing or something, they always fitted."

"You have keys?" he asks out of nowhere (well maybe not so, as they are getting closer to his door), ready to change the subject of the conversation. Women's fashion is not being his strong interest until it isn't her dress dropping to the floor with little help of his fingers or him ogling her from head to toe – preferably undressed, but dressed equally stunning.

"No, I left them on the counter since I've known we will be coming back together."

"I have mine in the left pocket of pants," he nods in the direction. She stops again, one step from the edge of the corner, the niche in her sight if she wouldn't shift to face him and he is a bit too far to see the door. With was she is about to do, it is good no one is standing there watching silently, right?

Using the opportunity, she smiles mischievously at him and her free palm sets off to search for mentioned keys. Keys, not balls. Wait, what? Why would it even need to be said? Her hand trials down his stomach, graze the top button of his pants and four long fingers accidentally caress what underneath the fly. She looks up just in time to see his jaw tenses, his eyes fixed on her and she gives him the coyest grin she can muster, reflection of what he has presented her a minute ago.

"Ooops," she almost sing-song, moving her palm over him again, this time to finally drop into the pocket but manages to run her nails along his length once it is inside. Fortunately, effects of the stimulation she provided him in the elevator has not completely wear off yet.

He swallows aloud and when he speaks, his voice is deeper than earlier, "Donna."

A thread? A plea? A warning? Does it really matter? She is having fun observing his reactions, therefore she manages to curl her hand in the tiny piece of material. She creates friction by moving fingers up and down. "Donna," she hears again. Feeling extra confident, she tightens her grip a little more.

Every fiber of his being wish to drop what he is holding and ravish her right here, barefoot in the hallway to his home. Fuck. But he doesn't let his eyes close as his body dictates, aware that it is not how two adults their age behave, although being caught by his grumpy neighbor would only add spiciness to the whole encounter. He can sense more salvia gathering inside his mouth that somehow resembles the taste of her. Screw behaving.

"Donna, you want to eat that dinner," he declares with low tone, "Or you want to be eaten as a dinner."

She giggles, ultimately grasping solid surface of keys, taking them out and using her tiptoes to lean in for lighter kiss than he expected. She is messing with him and he loves it as much as it frustrates him.

"Why not both?" she questions in a seductive voice, holding his gaze in the same manner she did after their first (not really, but still) kiss at her door.

"Deal," he practically whispers, because his throat hit that point when his voice is too harsh to articulate at normal tune. "But I decide what goes first."

"In your wildest dreams, Mister," she chuckles, kissing him properly this time.

Their bubble is cracked when they hear some object hitting the floor too close to his door. They jump away and his protective side makes him take a step forward, replacing Donna's position at front, even before the sight they see kicks in.

But it does soon enough.

She blinks twice not really believing (not really wanting to believe) what – or rather who – she is looking at. Her hold on keys tighten and she has to physically restrain herself from showing grimace that starts to appear at her face. Although giving the position the woman is, she has to seen their foreplay (and maybe hear them making out in the elevator) and that leaves situation without the doubt, who's Harvey is now. And for the rest of their lives, she is not going to share this idiot with anyone, anymore.

"Paula, what are you doing here?" Donna hears Harvey asking, his tone no longer aroused, as his former therapist and ex-girlfriend straighten after picking up her phone from the floor. Hope it broke, redhead thinks not entirely able to calm down her inner petty bitch.

"Harvey…" she calls him and it takes him straight to all those Harveys he heard from her, first letter pronounced somehow velvety and rich but making him cringe this time. He hasn't heard her voice for over a year and last time he did, he broke her heart for the woman that was now moving to stand beside him. He wished back then to have opportunity to make it in less catastrophic circumstances, yet after some reflection he got to conclusion she had her fair share of fault.

After all she asked him to choose between herself and Donna, take away well deserved position from not only his best friend, but the person who fought tooth and nail to be recognized. She might not be absolutely ready when she got her new duty, yet she did everything in her power to prove she earned it. And she still continues to learn and comprehend information, strategies, methods to deal with day-to-day shitload of obligations.

He would never ask any of his partners to do the same for him, wouldn't require someone to make such tough choice… Wouldn't just demand to be the most important one, aware of his flaws and shortcomings, being able to give himself back the maximum of his capabilities. Donna would never do that to him. Moreover – she once again put him first, leaving everything she loved for his sake.

Perhaps this is exactly how perfect love should work. One doesn't expect to be placed on a pedestal, one decide to do this for one's chosen partner and trust his or her lover returns the gesture. So he broke up with Paula. He knows his redhead acknowledged that it was first step to rearrange relationship that got so messy during past years.

He made more mistakes than he is able to count, that goes without a doubt. He is sorry for the most of them and he would need another lifetime to make up for, although he doesn't regret his choice. Yes, his relation with Paula probably shouldn't have even begin in the first place but he tried his hardest to focus on her. The lengths he went to be the best boyfriend he could – if Scottie would seen him in that period, she would have every right to feel underappreciated. And given all that, Paula still decided to articulate that fatal ultimatum. Fuck, it was almost as bad as when his mother asked him to keep her secret from his father. Difficult choice between loved ones all over again. She of all the people should know best to never put him in that position. So she got what she asked for. The decision.

In three seconds that Harvey's thoughts were swirling, Donna had enough time to translate Paula's body language and figure out most of the situation. She may have not graduate from psychology, but picking up clues people unconsciously present has been part of her as long as she can remember. It's actually surprising how effortlessly redhead manages to reveal emotional state of someone who is supposed to be the one doing it.

Truth be told, what she sees is not what she anticipated. The blonde looks shocked but there is some finality in her gaze, like she has just confirmed what she knew all along.

Donna used to wonder why wasn't she able to recognize the depth of Harvey's feelings toward her as he kept coming to her on the therapy? Is it really that hard to notice emotionally unavailable person? Understand things like that don't change so easily? Or… Maybe she did all of that, but repressed or denied original concerns and it backlashed on her, probably left her broken. Perhaps the most broken one out of this damned deal. That would explain also sadness, kind of ashamedness and something strangely resembling guilt painting her features. Paula is not looking her in the eyes, her body taking as little space as possible, clearly on a defensive note.

Good choice after threatening my job, redhead would like to muse without nagging feeling in her stomach that she is overstepping a line. Which line, she isn't sure.

Paula did behave as a bitch toward her. Was that appropriate punishment for messing with her relationship? Maybe was, maybe wasn't. After all, if there wouldn't be unsolid ground or unshared words already, there would be no room for messing to start with. And going after her professionally, when matter was personal, was a move below the belt. That's probably what hurt Donna the most, someone who had no damn idea how hard she fought for her life, for her family, for Harvey, was willing to take everything from her. Yes, this moment she had asked her if she could promise that situation wouldn't happen again, she was looking for an honest answer, yet she knew she couldn't gave her one. So she tried to find something as close to it as possible, but the woman didn't let her.

And she hated her for that.

But it was not the only person she felt resent for. For a moment there, she felt it for herself.

For never taking the whole risk when it came to them. For always giving him, giving them an easy way out. For sticking to this stupid rule she made years ago and then even doesn't remember for who's sake it was. Because people would talk? Consider her less for sleeping with her boss? Oh please, they talked enough anyway, never actually believing they didn't have this kind of relationship. Sometimes she couldn't believe it either. And sometimes she felt like she had robbed them, robbed him of opportunity to have safe harbor, to have what everyone eventually look for. Intimacy. Acceptance. Love, love, love.

So she stepped down, sacrificed all she had, to gave him the least she could – a peace. She took away the burden she didn't want him to carry as he carried one his mother made him to. Her throat burned as she left the resignation letter on his desk, but tears didn't fall down until she closed the door to 206 behind her. All in the name of feeling she tried so hard to hid, destroy, bury and never succeed.

In the long run, turned out he either.

But what about overstepping this mysterious line? What is that?

Part of her – bitchy part that doesn't give a fuck – wants to hurt this woman in passive-aggressive manner, show her who got upper handed from this shitty situation, watch her struggle with indifferent expression as she did to her. Karma's bitch, but karma's always back, right? Yet, as big blue orbits accidentally meet hazel ones, Donna cannot find it in herself to do it. Not so long ago she caused her own shitload of drama, emotional misjudgment resulting in tragedy, melodrama and comedy. Paula looks dragged down enough, her pose speaks loud about awareness that she and Harvey would have never develop these kind of relationship, the two of them cosmic objects on different trajectories.

That is enough.

No need to delve into that, she decides as she remembers the amount of understanding she has got from her family lately. People who decided to extend their hands toward her rather than to humiliate her, giving her inner strength to make up for she did. They did? Doesn't matter anymore. The firm's fine now and so are they, them freely playing and flirting like they were goddamn teenagers in front of his door. Maybe it is also her chance to pay karma off, long forgotten words coming to the surface of her thoughts.

Whatever you gave to the world, it comes back to you twice as much powerful – mother words echoes through redhead's head as she searches for the reason of her boyfriend's ex visit. Perhaps karma did get to her eventually too.

What had happened to make Paula come to the person who broken up with her? Given her appearance and tiredness, late hour and the fact that she came straight to his place, ready to wait if needed, the best possible answer seems to be desperation. The question is – is that personal or professional? And how stinking the shit is?

Donna catches Harvey's gaze and appreciates message it sends.

I have no idea what she's doing here.

I know.

"So Paula?" he hurries her, not pleased with his ex-girlfriend watching him being palmed seconds before, awkwardness settling between the three of them.

"I've came to talk to you…" she admits finally, pink shadow of embarrassment visible on her cheeks. "I'd appreciate if you could spare me a minute or two."

Harvey is not keen on that request and weights his thoughts, trying to decide if he wants to deal with whatever she needs help with. It cannot be good, he know that much. He is just about to reply when Donna interjects –

"He can. Let's get inside, that's not the best place to have conversations," she says and passes Paula, giving clutched keys some usage. Both locks turn smoothly and she pushes the door open, stepping into his condo with self-confidence of a woman who owns this place. She does, doesn't she?