XIX.

Donna steals a breath as the sun washes over her face, watching Harvey across the back lawn of his mother's house. Samantha, Louis and Mike are all off to the side, grouped under the shade of a large elm, and she collects her thoughts, readying herself to join them. At first, she'd been nervous about seeing everyone, but she'd kept the fear to herself, and the initial awkwardness had vanished once Louis pulled her into a tight hug.

From then on she'd set her focus on Harvey, making sure she was there when he needed her, and keeping things running on the sidelines. After he'd given his eulogy at the funeral, he hadn't let go of her hand, the only sign he was crumbling under the weight of his loss, but when they'd spilled into the familiar surroundings of his childhood home, his grip had loosened, and she'd found herself gravitating to any problems that arose—ensuring he and his family, didn't have to deal with the short supply of salmon, lost coats, children wanting to play games, and anything else that had cropped up as a potential disturbance. But the caterers have left, the guests still lingering are serving themselves, and Harvey's shed enough grief to face their condolences. He's going to be okay, and she feels better having had a sense of purpose through the day, even though the circumstances have cast a heavy shadow over the achievement. At least she's managed to be useful, the accomplishment recognised when Marcus steps into her path with a small smile.

She's careful of the plate in his hand as she pulls him into a hug, her cheeks warming as he vocalizes the gesture. "You've been amazing, Donna, thank you." He honestly isn't sure how he would have coped without her around, and still isn't sure how she managed to get everything done while being a constant pillar of support for his brother, but he's also cautious of his late mother's concern. Lily had been worried about the redhead, admitting Harvey confessed she'd been going through a difficult time, and he separates them, offering her the selection of sandwiches he'd brought over. "You're run off your feet, you should eat something."

She takes the plate, wanting to avoid any scrutiny, and because he's right. Food has been low on her priority list since arriving in Boston, but she'd rather not draw attention to the fact, and brushes off the worry present in his gaze. "You can take the boy out of the restaurant…"

Her mouth curves softly, and he relaxes, glancing over at Harvey. "And the lawyer out of New York, it seems," he comments. If he's being honest, he's had his doubts about how his brother would handle coming home, which is why he'd reached out to Donna. She's the only one who's ever been able to wrangle Harvey. He'd learnt early on, if he ever really needed the man to listen, she was the person to go through, and he's struck by how easy it's always been to open up to her. She's supported him without fail every time—loyal to Harvey but not letting his stubbornness sever the tremulous relations hanging by a thread. She's helped rebuild his family and as far as he's concerned, she's part of it. And no matter what's been going on in recent weeks, he knows his mother would have felt the same way. "She was so proud of that idiot for finally figuring things out." He dips his gaze back to Donna, wishing the two women could have met in person, but taking comfort from the fact Lily had gotten to see her eldest son happy. "You have no idea what that meant to her."

A rush of emotion catches in her throat, and she swallows thickly, touched by his kindness. Harvey had admitted he reached out to his mother when he was struggling, and knowing she was the cause of his anxiety had left her riddled with assumptions over how Lily had perceived her. She wouldn't have blamed the woman if she'd warned Harvey to streer clear, but hearing Marcus' words help settle her doubts, and she's quick to give Harvey the credit he deserves. "You should be proud of him, too. Things haven't exactly been... easy, recently, but he's been great, Marcus."

She bows her head absently toward the food between her hands, and he guesses from the direction of her silence, now isn't the time to press for more details. He doesn't want to make her feel uncomfortable, but he is proud of his brother. Whatever's been happening, Harvey obviously came to his senses to help see her through, but after years of missing what was right in front of him, Marcus suspects it took a lot for Donna to give the man a second chance, and he reaches out, giving her arm a comforting squeeze. "If you ask me, he's the lucky one."

She graciously accepts the compliment because, true or not, today is about reassuring both Specter brothers. The two men have suffered enough grief, and she smiles gently, eyeing Harvey over his shoulder, knowing it's time for the pair to take a breather and check in with each other. "I'll tell him to come find you."

Marcus stills, surprised she can read his thoughts so easily, and it's not that he couldn't have approached Harvey—he just wanted to make sure the man was good to talk first. But her intuition leaves him feeling more sure of himself. "Thanks, Donna." She moves around him, silent assurance guiding her across the lawn, and a relieved sigh pulls from his lips, the weight resting in his pocket urging him towards the kitchen.

He needs a beer to wash away his hesitation, in the least to ease the tension pulled tightly through his muscles, and if nothing else, to give himself a few moments reprieve from a day that's taken its toll.

…

Donna waits for Harvey to finish with the older couple he's talking to, his shoulders hunched with tension as they shuffle off, and she steps up, brushing her fingers along the inside of his elbow. "Hey." She feels him relax, his gaze tipping down with a small, tired smile, and she slips the plate she's holding in front of him. "I thought you might be hungry."

He winces at the array of sandwiches, his stomach repelling the idea of food, but she takes one for herself and he feels obliged to do the same, relieved it hadn't slipped her mind to eat something. The taste of egg mixed with rocket washes around his pallet, and he forces the unpleasant sensation down with three bites, wishing he had liquid to wash away another one with. "You want to go inside, get a drink?"

She shakes her head, delivering her concern gently. "Marcus was looking for you, why don't you go have a beer with him?"

The suggestion isn't the worst idea. He'd caught up with his brother briefly before the funeral, and they'd been close to each other most of the day, but they hadn't really had a chance to talk without interruptions—and he picks up another sandwich, taking a moment to check over Donna. She seems fine and has been a constant source of support, but it's been a hard afternoon on all of them, and he glides his free hand over her shoulder, stealing his own comfort from the touch. "You okay?"

"Yeah." She catches his fingers, giving them a reassuring squeeze. "I'll check in with Mike and the others."

He's suddenly reluctant to let her go, not because he's worried, but because he'd rather be somewhere else with her. At home, in the quiet of his apartment, or hers—it doesn't really matter. But Marcus is dealing with the same grief, and he pushes his own down, pressing his lips to her temple. "I'll come find you when we're done."

He turns out of the sun, peering up at the house in front of him—a place that, if he's honest, hasn't felt like home in a long time. But being here, surrounded by people who adored Lily, his friends, family, has brought more memories forward. Happier ones, and if it weren't for Donna, he wouldn't even have those to hold on to. As hard as it's been, and no matter how guilty he feels for not making amends with Lily sooner, he's getting through, even their last conversation, one he's trying to view in a different light. He'd been frustrated by her opinion, and he regrets being so rash now, but their last words hadn't been fuelled with any resentment. They were looking towards the future, and a lump rises in his throat as he pushes into the kitchen, swallowing it down when he spots Marcus leaning against the counter, nursing a beer.

"Hey, loser."

Harvey snorts, but the affectionate term helps soften the loss he's feeling, and he moves to the fridge, thankful someone—probably Donna—had the sense to stock it with something other than the shitty ale his brother drinks. He takes out a bottle of larger, closing the door and twisting off the cap and tossing it in the bin as he stands opposite the younger man. "You good?"

"Yeah…" He nods."You?" Harvey motions with the same gesture, and Marcus takes a sip of his drink, trusting the assurance, even though he knows there's tension buried beneath the claim. But the rigid set of Harvey's shoulders doesn't hold the same defensiveness the man had worn when their father passed several years ago. Marcus hadn't even been sure Harvey would turn up to the funeral, and he'd had flickering doubts this time too, but Donna had settled his fears, promising he wouldn't have to face his grief alone. He hadn't questioned putting his faith in her, and leans on his relief to break the ice."Donna's been…" He shakes his head, not sure there are even words to describe everything she's done for their family—today especially. From taking care of Harvey, to wrangling his kids, while doing a thousand other things… She's been a godsend. "How exactly does she do that?"

Harvey reads both the confusion and amazement in his brother's expression but doesn't have to ask what the reaction means. He's never had to tell Donna to do anything. Since the day she started at his desk, she's always been able to anticipate his needs. At first he'd assumed it was because she was into him—a picture of his younger, arrogant self filling his head—but she'd proven he wasn't a special case and, like an asshole, he'd made a show of expecting her to do things without him having to ask. He'd taken her for granted, but now he knows better than to make that same mistake again. She's the most important person in the world to him, and he's never going to diminish what she's capable of, his mouth tipping up proudly. "I've been asking myself the same thing for years."

"You know she's way out of your league, right?" Marcus quips, teasing Harvey with the easy banter. They haven't always been close, but they're blood which has kept them in each other's orbit, and he isn't surprised when his brother playfully ribs him back.

"You mean out of your league?" A smirk winds across his mouth, but he's more than aware how lucky he is.

He's found the person he's going to be with forever, and takes a sip of beer, silently hoping Marcus will find the same sense of peace. He's still secretly rooting for the man to patch things up with Katie, but love is complicated. And before he can ask about the woman, Marcus clears his throat, jumping in first with a more serious expression.

"Mom mentioned a couple of things…" He thumbs the label around his bottle, the envelope pressed in his inner pocket prompting him to do away with jokes. He and Harvey might not talk regularly either, but today has banded them together in a way no other has before. They're orphans now, moving forward in life without their parents, but Lily's echo is still present, shining through the people who turned up to say goodbye and remembered by his and Harvye's actions. She'd wanted Harvey to be happy and when he'd seen Donna's smaller frame, the redhead's appearance had shocked him into taking Lily's concern seriously. The last thing he wants to do now is cause a rift, but he genuinely feels it's his place to say something. "I just wanted to check in, make sure Donna's doing okay?"

Harvey scrubs a hand down the side of his face, breathing out a tense sign. A week ago the question would have landed with a sting of accusation—like he'd felt talking to Lily, and he pushes through his guilt, determined not to react in the same way. "She's working through it… We both are."

The response is candid enough to propel a wave of relief, and Marcus sets his beer down, sliding out the letter he's been hoarding. "Good… because there's something mom wanted you to have."

Harvey glances at the crinkled paper, his mouth dipping in confusion. "What is it?"

"I don't know." He hands it over with a loose shrug. The object had been laying on Lily's drawing desk, his brother's name scrawled neatly across it, and he hadn't felt right intruding by opening it. But knowing his mother, he can hazard a guess at the letter's contents. She'd been worried she'd said the wrong thing last time Harvey called, and since they're reconciliation, she didn't like to leave things unsaid between them. "Mom seemed pretty convinced you and Donna would work everything out."

Harvey takes the envelope, trying to swallow the emotion trapped in his throat. He'd been coming to terms with how they'd left everything, knowing one slightly tense conversation doesn't outweigh all the good ones prior. But realizing she'd had more to say leaves him suddenly nervous, and he downs a sip of beer, moving his attention away from the unknown. "I came in here to see how you were doing," he defends, breathing in sharply through his nose.

Marcus plasters on a small smile, more carefree now that the air between them is lighter again. "We both know I'm better at this stuff."

Harvey moves to stand beside him, folding the paper into his pocket—not ready to face the final goodbye he's holding. Good or bad, whatever's inside is all he has left, and part of him feels guilty for stealing the words away from Marcus, but the man doesn't seem phased. Maybe because he'd spent more time with Lily, there weren't as many words left unsaid, the notion making him realize he has access to those missing years—all he has to do is ask. He'd repaired his relationship with Lily, but he hasn't put the same effort in with Marcus, and it's about time he started. "Maybe Donna and I could stay a few extra days, help out with the kids—if she's up for it."

Marcus is surprised by the offer, having assumed that his brother would need to go back for work, and he shoots his older sibling the side-eye. You didn't seriously just offer to babysit?"

Harvey winces, shaking his head with another sip of beer. "I said, help, get your hearing checked."

A chuckle of amusement rumbles in Marcus' throat. But honestly, he'd like for the pair to stick around. He was going to extend the offer himself, anyway, and tips the last of his drink back, sliding the bottle on the counter, and slapping his arms loosely around the slightly taller man. "The kids would love that."

Harvey returns the gesture, stealing his own comfort from the hold. He'll no doubt get his ass handed to him by Faye, but if there's one thing he's learnt recently, it's that work isn't the be all and end all.

Family is more important, and his are all here.

...

...

Harvey dumps his and Donna's bags on the floor, his muscles stiff from the plane ride. They'd had to fly back economy due to changing their flights last minute but staying the couple extra days had been worth it. Even though he's exhausted, and knows Donna must be feeling the same. She'd been going to bed early while he and Marcus caught up into the small hours, he'd still been conscious of her energy levels fluctuating. The funeral had taken a lot out of her, and he insists on ordering them food in while she takes a shower.

The fresh scent of jasmine and lavender tickles his senses shortly after their dinner arrives, and they make themselves comfortable on the couch rather than eating at the dining table. Donna pulls her feet up, picking at the noodle-box, and he tries not to worry that she's seemed disinterested in food since leaving behind Marcus' home-cooked meals. Maybe he's reading too much into the thought, but she seemed fine around his brother, and he can't help wondering if she was staging at least some of her enthusiasm. It wouldn't be the first time he's missed glaringly obvious signs, and he hasn't forgotten the words he'd callously hurtled when he'd been drunk and lashing out. He'd said she couldn't take care of herself, but that isn't true.

She's one of the strongest people he knows, and although he'd needed her more than ever over the past few days, he would never want her to think she has to prove anything. The thought rests uneasily in his stomach, making his own meal seem unappetizing, and he places the container down on the table with a small sigh.

The sound draws Donna's gaze up, and she knows it's stupid to ask how he's doing. Staying in Boston had been good for him, but it had locked them both in a bubble, and coming home, facing the reality of everything, has been playing on her mind, but she keeps the thoughts to herself, trying to stay positive for him. "It'll be okay."

"Yeah." He forces a small smile, his mouth curving limply around his hesitation. "Not hungry, either?" he asks, watching her place the food she's barely touched next to his own.

She shakes her head, leaning back into the leather cushions. She's too nervous to eat, surprised by how drained she feels. It hadn't occurred to her that there might be physical limitations to starting back at the firm full-time. She'd gotten used to pushing beyond her limits but the past few days have been a reminder of the toll working herself into the ground had taken. But she can read the concern in Harvey's gaze, and does her best to settle his worry. "I'm just tired… I'll finish it later."

She offers a smile, and he nods, but the assurance isn't the conversation starter he was searching for. He wants to ask if she's okay, but doesn't know how without sounding paranoid. He's been with her constantly since leaving New York, and she hasn't given him any indication there's something wrong. They feel solid, but he still can't shake the sense something is off.

"Hey—" she pulls herself forward, brushing his arm "—what's going on?"

"Nothing." He scrambles to find his footing, feeling her fingers run the length of his arm to tug him around, and he's teased by the smell of her shampoo, his hands falling around her waist when she kisses him softly.

Her lips will away the worry pent up in his muscles as he pulls her into his lap, the contact making her chest ache with how much she's missed him. They'd rarely left each other's sides but their touches had been light and supportive, subdued by grief. Nothing like the way he chases her tongue when she kisses him more deeply. His desire springs to life beneath her and it's the only part of his body that's strained, the rest of him relaxing and sinking back, and she wants to take things further. She wants to watch him come undone and let go, the need pooling in her core—only faltering when his palm skates the edge of her sweater. But she recovers quickly, batting his hand away and sliding off his lap, stroking him with a seductive smirk.

He swallows a groan, his eyes fluttering closed as she dips down closer to his waistband, but the voice in his head from a few minutes ago yields itself again. He can't ignore the fact she'd pulled away the second he'd moved to touch her, and he catches her wrist gently, stopping her from answering the throbbing in his groin. "Donna, wait."

She tilts her head, confusion mixing with a flash of uncertainty, scared she misread his needs. "I thought you wanted—"

"I do." He's quick to assure her, his body's reaction backing up the statement, but he's flooded by blurry memories of the last time they'd almost crossed the line. When he'd been drunk seeking comfort and had gotten so caught up in needing her, he hadn't realized what was happening. She'd been terrified, for reasons he still doesn't fully understand, but he wants more than to just be the recipient of her attention. He wants to be intimate with her, worship her, and he caresses his thumbs over her pulse-point, finally finding the words he's been looking for. "But I want you to want it as well."

She pulls free from his grasp, reaching down to cup him with a purr. He doesn't need to worry. The last time she hadn't been the one in control, but this is different. She feels safe taking command, and kisses him, her lips teasing a trail and blowing hotly against his ear. "I know exactly what I want."

Her voice is a low, a melodic whisper, and god help him—he must be paying for something in another life he hasn't atoned for, because instead of encouraging her, he sits up straighter, pulling back to make sure this is really what she wants. Her eyes gleam with the challenge, her mouth landing over his, and he groans into the kiss, his fingers automatically seeking more of her but the second they come into contact with skin, she diverts them again, and he stops, panting her name. "Donna… I can't—" he fumbles with the right thing to say "—I don't want to do this half-way."

"Since when?" she snaps, frustrated by his inability to take what she's comfortably giving. She's sure he's let half of the women in Manhattan go down on him without any complaint, and moisture pricks her gaze as she climbs off him.

"Since I met you." He latches his arm around her waist, seating her back down with the hope she'll listen. He's spent the majority of his adult life having meaningless sex, dissociating from his feelings because it was easier, but she's different. He's learning to put her needs above his own—a process that has evolved from over a decade of selfishness, but she's buried so deeply within his heart now, it physically hurts when he can't see a clear way to help her. He wishes he had the same intuition she does, but he doesn't. Whatever's wrong, he has to hear the problem from her, and he'll wait as long as it takes, but he's not going to let her think any of this is trivial to him. "You mean everything to me, Donna, and you keep telling me it's fine, but then you flinch whenever I touch you. Tell me, how is that okay?"

It isn't, she knows that, and the way his expression breaks with guilt fills her chest with panic. She was supposed to be distracting him, not lumping him with more concern, and her instinct is to turn and run, but she can't do that either, not when leaving would cause him to worry more. The only way out she can see is by facing up to the truth, and she sinks back on her thighs, dipping her gaze to where he still has a light hold around her waist. "It's not you," she says quietly, not wanting him to think for a second any of this is his fault. She trusts him completely but there's still a part of her scared she's going to disappoint him—that he'll regret straying from the bachelor lifestyle if she can't live up to the expectations they set the other time. "I'm not—the same, as I was the last time we…"

She swallows, colour flushing her cheeks, and it takes him a moment to grasp what she's talking about, his mouth parting slightly as he comes to terms with her insecurities. It seems unfathomable to him, because in his mind she's always been perfect, with the confidence to match, but the way she's refusing to even look at him drills straight through his chest. He's been an idiot. Firstly, for not realizing the problem sooner, and secondly because he hadn't given her a reason to challenge the line of thought.

"Donna…" He nudges her closer, sliding his hand beneath her chin until she finally gives in and focuses her attention on him. "There's never been a time I haven't wanted you, even when I couldn't admit that to myself. You're stunning and intelligent, you make me laugh… you're frustratingly stubborn, to the point it drives me crazy, but I love you. You're beautiful, and so long as you're healthy, that's all I care about.

A fierce truth surrenders the statement, and her lips curve through a watery smile. She'd been so scared of letting him down, she hadn't been able to see beyond anything else. Hadn't let the fact he loves her breach her fear, but she can feel the last of her walls crumbling as she releases his hand, her fingers shaking slightly as they skim the edge of her sweater. Her insecurities aren't going to disappear overnight, but she's tired of being bound by them, and she removes the article of clothing, trying to calm her racing heartbeat as she sits in front of his gaze.

He takes her in, marvelling at how breathtaking she is— smaller or not—and he moves slowly, skimming her arms to make certain she's definitely sure. A shy smile tugs at her mouth and he leans in, ghosting his lips against her skin with a breathy whisper. "You're perfect."

She shivers, arching towards him as he flutters kisses down along her neck, and she grips his biceps, dizzy beneath his gentle caresses. They move in sync, his body covering hers as she slides back, finding his mouth again. He takes his time sliding his fingers down, still making sure she's comfortable, and because he wants to take in every inch, show her there's no part unworthy or undeserving of his attention. He'd meant what he'd said. She's beautiful, each line and curve, even the edges that are sharper but filling out, because she's taking better care of herself. He loves all of her, completely, his lips trailing the path of his hand, landing in the valley of her breasts. She presses them up with a low moan and his heart hammers at how willing she is, without the fear of being judged holding her back. He hates she'd felt that way, not sure how he could've been so blind to what was troubling her, but she has nothing to be afraid of. No one has ever come close to making him feel the way he does now, like nothing else in the world matters.

He lavishes his tongue across her skin, places she's avoided looking at lately, but his devotion smothers her, stopping her from feeling self-conscious—only coming to her senses when he stalls at her waistband. Her eyes fall down to where he's poised, his thumbs stroking the synthetic material, and she bucks her hips urging him to keep going. He doesn't, but she quickly realizes why, and takes her lip between her teeth when he stretches up, ridding himself of his clothes—putting his body in the spotlight, not to show-off but to make himself vulnerable first, and her heart swells as he gives pause, still cautious of moving at a pace she's comfortable with. But she doesn't want to wait any longer. She wants him back on top of her, his lips fused to hers while he's driving inside her, and she nudges her leg impatiently, blushing when he smirks because he's been beyond patient, and sensitive, and caring—he's earned the right to be a little smug.

He drags her slacks and underwear off, and answers her silent need, caging her body as he finds her mouth again, and she lifts her hips, sucking in a gasp when his fingers meet the slick heat beneath between her legs with absent, teasing strokes. She knows she could cum just from the foreplay he's intending to deliver, and tugs at his wrist, chasing the same intimacy he'd sought earlier. He was right. What they have runs deeper than sex, and she pushes gently against his chest, her eyes clouding over as she finds his gaze.

He braces himself, holding above her with a sharp intake of air. "You okay?"

She nods, dragging her nails down and hooking her ankle behind his thigh. She's never been more okay. She just needed him to know as much without any shadow of a doubt. "Don't stop."

The whisper catches somewhere between a plea and a demand, and he lowers himself, sliding into her with a slow thrust that makes her pinch his skin, eliciting a groan from the back of his throat. He withdraws, pushing inside her again and there's a warning in his brain telling him to take things slowly that vanishes as her heel digs into his ass, urging him to move faster.

He shudders and she skims her palm along his jaw, screwing her eyes shut as she begs him with her hips—provoking the response she was looking for. He starts to let go of himself, providing the friction she needs and setting a pace that quickly dissolves into blissful chaos. His thumb falls clumsily over her clit and she only lasts a few more seconds before her muscles erupt in a frenzy of spasms, her thoughts disintegrating as he follows her over the edge with a guttural sound that fills her entire being. If she ever questioned his ability to see past the other time, the doubt is completely erased as he hovers above her, his hand brushing away the strands of hair plastered to her face.

"Donna…"

He doesn't need to say anything else, and she swallows, answering the question she's not sure there are even words for. "I know." The desire to vocalise her own emotions gives way to his touch, that's still determined to cherish every part of her, and she knows going back to work—whatever menial things she'd been afraid of, Harvey's unwavering faith is a tether to everything she's capable of accomplishing.

They're together now, in every sense of the word, and there's no more holding back.

AN: I've been going back and re-writing a few of these chapters for fun, trying to put into practice everything Southsidesister (darvey_love) has taught me ❤️ Looking forward to tackling some new Darvey challenges, but this story is still keeping on keeping on :P