AN: Thanks for all the positive response on my last fic! Hope you guys like this one just as much :)

1.

Harvey had been used to going to work alone.

Ray would pick him up, occasionally hand him a coffee and the latest New York Times, and Harvey would slide himself into the back seat, already brainstorming about how to approach his latest case. There were the few odd moments in which the back was shared: Mike when he slept through his alarm and was running late (giving Harvey a day's worth of ribbing), Donna when Harvey was feeling appreciative for her help at the firm, and that one time when Rachel needed to be picked up from Columbia after her morning exam. Harvey didn't mind too much—he was their friend after all. But in general, mornings were his time: to think, to collect, to ready himself for the typically stressful day.

Now, Ray holds two coffees, both with a splash of vanilla.

His usual work-related thoughts have devolved into discussions of date night and that one play Donna has been dying to see. She brings her palm to his cheek and pulls him into a gentle kiss, promising Harvey that he will love it. He's not so sure, never one for the theater, but there's a brightness in her eyes that makes it impossible to say no. So, he nods his head and her lips are back on his and he falls in love all over again at nine a.m.

There are days when he's already tense—an argument with Louis or a client acting out of line or the fact that he just wants to turn to Mike but his friend is no longer there. His jaw clenches, fingers grip the leather seat, an unshakeable hardness sets into his eyes. Before her, he would try to take deep breathes. In, out, repeat. Will away the anger and frustration. Wait for the caffeine to kick in.

But now—now, she reaches her hand out and intertwines her fingers with his. Her thumb smooths across the top of his hand, a comforting clockwise rotation. She never says anything, just holds on and waits for him he lets go of what's bothering him. An anchor of sorts: he's a ship caught in a rocky current and she grounds him until the storm passes.

He looks up at her, and he's sure that no one has ever looked at him with such devotion, such love and loyalty.

"You ready for today?" She asks softly. "I know you've been taking on more pro bonos, but this is a pretty big case and—"

"Will you be by my side?" He asks.

Her eyes match his, of seriousness and an unwavering partnership. "Of course."

"Then I'm ready."

He prefers going to work with the love of his life.

2.

Donna wears his shirts. A lot.

It begins with his dress shirts. It's the first article of clothing she finds after their night together, still slightly in shock of the events that had unfolded just hours before: him knocking at her door, her realizing exactly what he was there for, him kissing her like she had never been kissed before, her leading him to her bedroom.

And now, she buttons up his shirt, her eyes catching on the cuffs and their signature H.S. lettering. She runs her fingers over the embroidered letters, the reality of their new relationship washing over her. No more dancing around each other's feelings; no more pain and regretful words and always missing the right opportunity. Finally, she thinks, finally.

"You look good in my shirt," he says from behind her. Donna turns around and sees Harvey sit up in her bed, bathed in the morning sun and ridding the grogginess from his eyes. Her gaze follows his face to his chest to the sheet pooled at his waist. Her fingers had forgotten the intricacies of Harvey Specter—thirteen years since just one flirtatious and whipped cream hazed night does that to a person. But then, she relearned and learned and learned again, pale hands on tan skin, smoothing over his hard edges and watching him crumble under her delicate touch. It's intoxicating, and she's not sure how she'll ever be able to stop.

"You think so?" She muses, walking over towards the bed and straddling his hips.

His hands encase her arms, running over the white fabric. "It's a view I certainly can get used to."

"Good, because I'm never leaving."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

(They're an hour late for work that day. Louis doesn't think to ask why.)

Days soon blur into weeks, and it's not only his dress shirts she's started taking. Her latest prey is his old Harvard sweatshirt, a faded maroon and smells distinctly like him, of spicy aftershave and something she wants to call home. It hangs on her lean frame, much too large to be worn outside of his apartment, so in their learned domesticity, she slips it on and drowns in its warmth.

"You might as well take the sweatshirt at this point," he says from the kitchen, flipping another pancake.

She plays with the hem. "It's definitely comfortable."

"I mean, I never wear it."

"You should. Suits must get boring after a while."

"You know I'm not a sweatshirt kind of guy."

"And I know you were once not a relationship kind of a guy," she says. "Things change. Besides, it's starting to lose your scent."

He smirks, an eyebrow arched. "Are you saying you like the way I smell?"

She rises from his couch and makes her way to the kitchen, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. "I wouldn't keep you around if I didn't."

"Sure," he mocks, placing the spatula on the countertop and wrapping his arm around her waist.

"Good morning, Harvey," she murmurs.

"Good morning, Donna," he echoes, kissing her again.

"Those pancakes are gonna burn if you don't stop kissing me," she says, a bit breathlessly.

"It's okay," he muses, "we still have more than a decade to make up for," and brings her back towards his room.

3.

Donna fixes the knot of his tie. "You aren't nervous, are you?"

"Nervous?" Harvey shakes his head. "It's just… weird."

She gives him a pointed look. "Weird? It's our two closest friends."

"Sure, yeah, it's Mike and Rachel, but we've never been on a double date with them before."

"And how is it going to be different from any other time we've gotten dinner with them?"

"I don't know. Mike's probably going to get all intrusive and ask us super personal questions and then you and Rachel are gonna do that girl thing where you go to the bathroom together and—"

She holds her hand up, cutting him off. "You're overthinking this."

"Maybe—"

"Trust me, Harvey, it's going to be fun."

To Harvey's surprise, it's not weird—or at least at first. They exchange tight hugs and warm pleasantries, hard laughter over wine, a remembered rhythm of their friendship. Harvey can't help but find himself missing it, even when they are together. Missing his film quote sessions with Mike or watching Donna gossip with Rachel or the simple knowledge that all four of them are in the same firm, on the same floor, have the same dependable company. Now there's Seattle and plane rides and thousands of miles. Harvey tries to shake off the fact that his found family will always have this physical distance.

"You know," Mike muses a second glass in, "I never thought this day would actually come."

"You being able to order a drink without being carded?" Harvey taunts.

Mike levels him with a glare. "No. I never thought you and Donna would get your shit together so Rachel and I could treat you to a double date."

Harvey looks at Donna. "See? I told you he would bring up our relationship."

Rachel slowly raises her hand. "I never thought it was going to happen either."

"So we were slow to getting to the relationship stuff—but wasn't it always inevitable?" Harvey tries.

"Not when one half of the relationship is Harvey Specter," Mike says.

Donna tries to stifle a laugher. Harvey whips his head around. "You agree?"

"I mean, it's kind of true."

"Oh, fine, take their side."

"Nobody's taking anyone's side." Mike attempts to defuse the moment. "We're happy for you two."

"Seriously," Rachel says earnestly, "we are. Mike has already been brainstorming his best man speech."

"Rachel!"

"What? It's sweet."

Mike tries to will away the blush that creeps up his neck. "So, Donna," he questions, "how much of a romantic is our emotionally stunted friend here?"

"Hey!" Harvey objects.

"He's not too bad," Donna answers, taking a sip of her wine.

"Really?" Rachel asks. "I never would have guessed."

"He surprised me with tickets to London to go to the West End a couple of weeks ago," Donna divulges, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Harvey!" Mike clinks his glass with his unreceptive best friend. "Nice move, man. I'm proud."

"I'm a great boyfriend!" Harvey stresses. "Really, I am."

"Donna once bought a gift for you to give Scottie. Complete with her initials that you didn't know," Rachel says with a smirk.

"You told her that?" Harvey says, throwing daggers at Donna's way. She rolls her eyes and presses a kiss to his cheek, whispering into his ear a lithe tease: "As if you don't tell Mike everything."

"More like he annoys me until I tell him what he wants to hear."

Mike rolls his eyes. "Love you too, buddy."

There's a pause, then—

"In all seriousness," Donna says, her tone shifting from bemusement to an ingrained protectiveness, "what Harvey and I have… it's perfect."

Harvey, overcome with loving fondness, rests his arm on the back of her chair, his hand briefly squeezing her shoulder. Mike and Rachel look at them with soft contentment in their eyes.

Donna continues: "And we're happy we can share it with you two. Maybe it's years later than you would have hoped, but we're here now, and it's more than either of us could have wanted."

"What she said," Harvey chuckles, knowing his own words could never match up to hers.

Mike raises his glass. "To Donna and Harvey."

"To Donna and Harvey," Rachel echoes.

They clink wine glasses and trade smiles. Sometime later, Donna and Rachel disappear into the bathroom just as Harvey had predicted, leaving Harvey alone with his overly sentimental associate turned best friend.

Mike looks Harvey for a beat too long. "What?" Harvey asks tersely.

"She's the one," Mike says simply.

Harvey wants to blame it on the alcohol, but it's all her. Donna. The endless source of happiness behind his bright eyes and wide smile.

"Yeah." The corners of his mouth tug upward. "She's the one."

4.

Their arguments have always had a certain bite to them, one of history and knowing exactly where it hurts.

But there is an extra layer when it comes to being in a relationship.

"What the hell did you do?" Harvey snaps, aggressively shutting Donna's office door behind him. He seethes, eyes set and words burning with tangible anger. His fingers grip onto her opposing chair, the leather sinking under his hands.

She slowly closes her laptop, trying not to further ignite his temper. "What do you mean?"

"You let Alex take my case? I worked so... so fucking hard to win over Lydia Chatham as a client, and you pawn her off to Alex at the first sign of trouble?"

"You're too close to the case, Harvey. It's too personal"

"It involves infidelity and I suddenly have to retreat to my office?" He challenges, his tone sharp and iced. "Please, Donna, enlighten me on how I can't do my job."

"I'm not going to argue with you, Harvey," she says tersely, her attempt to quell her own hot fuse fading. "I've worked with you for over a decade now, and I know how involved you can get in a case that you feel a connection to."

"Me?" He laughs spitefully. "I'm the one who has to tell everyone else around here to not make work personal. Now, give me my case back. Alex doesn't know what the hell he is dealing with here."

"No."

"No?"

"I'm not doing this to piss you off, Harvey," she says.

"Well it seems like you goddamn are," he fires back, white-hot anger setting into his gaze.

"I'm doing this because I care. I don't want you to act on your emotions instead of law, especially since there is a young boy involved—"

"Stop." He says lowly, harshly. "Stop making this about my fucking childhood. If you cared, you would stop."

"If I cared?" Donna rises from her chair at that, her hands slamming against her desk. "I care about you more than anyone else at this goddamn firm. I'm the only one with the nerves to tell you when you're toeing the line of something you shouldn't. I'm the one who tells you when enough is enough. I'm the one who is telling you right now to back the hell off. Lydia might be your client, but she can't be for this case. You are going to try to bury the father and ruin any semblance of that son having a relationship with both of his parents. Leave this alone."

It feels as though the air has been sucked out of the room, a still fury taking its place, permeating and in control. Harvey's gaze scorches and could almost leave a burn; Donna holds her ground, lips set and guarding the most damning of words.

"If you're not going to listen to me as your coworker," she finally says, "listen to me as your girlfriend."

"You are not pulling the girlfriend card on me," he continues to seethe. "We said we were going to keep our working and personal relationships separate. It's why things never worked out Scottie, and I'm not letting that happen again. I'm not losing you over this bullshit."

"Then listen to me, Harvey," she tries, desperately, clinging onto the hope that he will. "Just listen for that sake that it's me."

And to her surprise, he lets a heavy breath expel from his lungs, and maneuvers into the chair in front of him. His jaw unclenches and his shoulders drop, second by second. His eyes remain fixed for the floor, hands clasped together. There is no longer the tumultuous look of raging anger as well as the man who used to walk through the firm with a negligence for his feelings; instead, there's a wave of sadness.

"You're the best closer this firm has seen—maybe the best closer it will ever see. And I will never doubt you for it… but sometimes, you need to take a step back," she says, words soft. "Remember that time you and Mike dealt with a case involving a car accident? Mike struggled so much to keep his emotions in check—it almost cost you the whole lawsuit. That is what is going to happen to you."

"It won't—"

"But it could, and I don't want to risk that. We've gone through so much shit at this firm. Don't you just want to relax?"

"That's not me, Donna. I can't relax. I'm the best closer, a senior partner, I…"

Donna circles around her desk and bends down next to Harvey, bringing her index finger under his chin and tilting his head up to face her. Unshed tears cover his eyes, and she finds the little boy whose cheating mother stole away his innocence. She finds the lawyer who lost his father to a heart attack. She finds the boss who she walked away from when he couldn't articulate how he truly felt about her. She sees the years of pain that she only wants to keep from continuing.

"You deserve to take a deep breath, Harvey. There are so many other cases for you to fight. I just don't want to lose you to this one."

And in a moment she never expects, he leans forward and kisses her, one of love and faithfulness. Their mouths separate and he rests his forehead against hers, whispering: "You will never lose me."

She whispers back, "And I will never let you lose yourself."

5.

Harvey had called Rachel two weeks prior.

"So, you're Donna's best friend," he says a little too casually.

"I am," she replies.

"And you know her pretty well."

"I do."

"And you two talk about… stuff."

"What are you getting at here, Harvey?"

He takes a breath, pauses, and then, with a wavering tone that Rachel had never heard from him: "Has Donna ever mentioned… I don't know… marriage to you? Or engagement rings? Or—"

"You're proposing," Rachel cuts him off with tangible glee.

He momentarily thinks to lie, to take a step back and hide—but he doesn't. His guard has faults in it now, cracks in his emotional armor. At one time, many times, he would have hung up the phone, cursing out Rachel for even bringing up the word 'proposing.' But times have changed and instead, he says, quietly and with mirth, like a child telling the happiest secret: "I am."

"Oh, Harvey," and he knows she's smiling, "I'm so happy for you two."

"She hasn't even said yes yet," he says with an underlying trepidation, his fingers tapping against his desk.

"She will," Rachel soothes. "You could propose without a ring, and she would still say yes." Then, a laugh: "But that doesn't mean you shouldn't, of course. She would be seriously pissed off."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he replies, bemused. "Do you happen to have any idea as to what kind of ring she'd like? I know diamonds are a girl's best friend but…"

"Definitely a diamond. A huge one—you can afford it." She says and then pauses, thinking. "I remember passing by a jewelry store with her last year. She stopped to point out a ring with one larger diamond and two smaller stones next to it. It's called a three-stone."

He jots it down a piece of paper. "Huge diamond. Three-stone. Got it. Thank you so much, Rachel," he says, his voice heavy with warm honesty.

"Of course, Harvey. Anything for you two." At the other end of the line, Harvey can hear a door open. Rachel asks, "Can I tell Mike? Or put him on the line? I don't think I'll do a good job of keeping this a secret."

Harvey considers for a second but quickly relents, knowing how excited his best friend would be for him. "Sure. Put him on."

"Hey, Harvey," Mike says a moment later, jovial and spirited, and Harvey softly smiles. "What are you doing calling my wife and not me?"

"I wanted some advice."

"And you don't think I'm good at giving it? Please, I should have a TED talk by now."

"You're… decent at it, buddy, but not for the kind I needed."

Mike presses. "What is it, Harvey?"

Harvey waits for a second, teasing out the moment, then with unbridled joy: "I'm proposing to Donna."

He has to pull his phone away from his ear when Mike starts to cheer. "Dude!" He exclaims, all over-excited and beaming. "That's amazing."

"Thank you. I asked Rachel for ring advice—an area I didn't think you could help me out with."

"Excuse me!" Mike says, offended. "Did you not see the ring I used to propose to Rachel with? It's gorgeous."

"Maybe. But you're not Donna's best friend either." Harvey counters.

"Still, I'm yours."

"You're really not getting upset about this, are you? Because I didn't have to tell you about my plans, asshole."

"Fine, fine. But I better be the first one to find out that she said yes."

"Donna's pretty fast. She might call Rachel first."

It goes quiet on the other end of the line. Harvey asks, "Mike?"

Mike lets out a sigh. "I'm just really happy for you, man. After all the shit that you've dealt with in your life, things seem to be really falling into place."

"Thanks, Mike." Harvey can't contain his smile. "I'm happy too."

"So, you have any plans for how you're going to do it?"

And Harvey did—he really did. He bought the ring and made a dinner reservation at Donna's favorite restaurant and yet, he finds himself down on one knee in her office on a mundane Tuesday evening. She brings her hand to cover her mouth, words jumbled and breathless:

"Harvey, what are you..."

Her sentence never finishes. He's never known her to leave words unsaid; he could always count on her filling in the blanks. But now he looks at her, watches tears form and a smile flicker across her features, and he finds the words instead.

"To be honest, I'm not sure," he admits with a soft laugh. "I made plans to take you out to your favorite restaurant to do this, but then I walked past your office, and I just knew I couldn't wait."

He feels tears of his own prick the corners of his eyes. The nerves should be settling in, but they're not; instead, his mouth bends into a loving curve. She's everything, everything.

"We fell in love right in these offices. I can recount our story through lawsuits and walks down that hallway and late-night drinks after a case. You kissed me here when you wanted to know if I was the one. Years earlier, I couldn't find the courage to tell you how much I loved you and you left me. We've gone through so much at this firm: friendship, heartbreak, faith—but most importantly, love. And I intend to love you for the rest of my life."

He takes a shaky breath. It's happening, right here, right now. "Donna Paulsen," his grin only grows, "will you marry me?"

She barely gets out a 'yes' before she takes his face into her hands and pulls him into a deep kiss, one that conveys more emotion than either of them could properly say. It's a moment he wishes he could stay in forever: their mouths meeting, her fingers along his jaw, smiles never quite leaving their lips.

He breaks apart from her and laughs. "You didn't even let me put the ring on."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I completely forgot," she says with a watery smile and he thumbs the tears off her face.

"Don't worry about it." He brushes another kiss to her lips before taking her left hand into his and sliding the ring onto her finger.

She inspects the ring, mouth slightly agape. "It's gorgeous, Harvey."

"What can I say? I have good taste."

She arches her eyebrow. "And you happened to know exactly the kind of ring I would want?"

"I might have called Rachel," he says sheepishly.

She links her hand with his. He runs his finger over the new metal band. She says, "I suspected—and I love you for it."

"I love you too." He can't help but kiss her one, two, three more times. "Just to think, at this time next year, you'll be Mrs. Specter."

She lets out a laugh. "As soon as you become Mr. Paulsen."

"Anything for you, Donna. Anything for you."

+1

It's still them.

It's still Harvey Specter and Donna Paulsen, senior partner and COO of one of New York's top law firms. They command attention and walk with purpose, striding toward successful mergers and new clients. He finds loopholes and occasionally toes the line; she closes deals and essentially runs the entire parade (managing partner may be Louis' title but Donna is the executor).

He remains as ruthless as ever in the courtroom with damning arguments and unbelievable wins. His smile is charismatic, but his words carry their signature bite, one that leaves the prosecution with a tail between their legs.

Even a year later when he adorns a silver band on his left ring finger. There are murmurings that the greatest closer New York City has ever seen is growing soft—until he places the first witness on the stand and tears him to pieces, wearing a smirk when the judge bangs her gavel and rules guilty. Donna rises from the bench behind the defendant's table and leans over the rail to give her husband a victorious kiss.

Even three years later when he carries his one-year-old son into the courtroom, asking for the trial to be moved to tomorrow. "My wife's busy at work and we couldn't find a sitter on such short notice," he explains. His son softly whimpers in his arms and Harvey presses his lips to his head, words soothing: "Shh, Gordon Michael." Harvey's charm wins yet again as the judge relents and changes the trial date.

Donna holds her weight as COO—everyone had always known she was more than just a secretary. There are those who try to dominate her with their lawyer talk and the knowledge that she used to be Harvey's second in command, but she fires right back, the tone of the room always shifting back toward her. She might not have graduated from Harvard, but she's Donna—she knows everything. Her name is the honorary fifth one on the wall, never mounted, but internally understood.

The firm's latest case involves a smarmy prosecution, one akin to David Fox, complete with a smile that he believes is charming but leaves Donna with a sour taste in her mouth. Jason Atkinson sits across from Donna while they wait for Harvey, his gaze flicking from her eyes to her lips down to her left ring finger. She mentally braces herself for the sentence that she senses is coming; she knows Jason saw her and Harvey walk into work together, sharing a kiss before they parted and went to their respective offices.

"Sleep your way to the top?" He sneers with narrow, snake-like eyes.

Her stare never faults and her words never stumble. "No, I actually had the intelligence and drive to get my job." She takes a pause and then goes for the jugular: "Didn't have to use my daddy's money either."

That effectively shuts him up.

(She later tells Harvey about her exchange with Jason. He breaks out into a proud smile, saying, "That's my girl.")

Everyone—partners, associates, clients, other firms—knows that Harvey and Donna are the most formidable duo around. Incredible separate, even better together, their chemistry palpable and impossible to defeat as they embark on a streak of continuous wins. His brevity, her wit; his charisma, her intuition; his ability to close, her ability to bring in new work.

It has always been them: from the district attorney's office to now Specter Litt Wheeler Williams.

Just this time, they walk hand in hand.