Note: Thank you to the lovely person who gave me this prompt — I took some liberties, and I hope I did it justice! (find it here: /danascullys/post/1061162734?t=1582602744

After that one time, they can't put it out of their minds.

And it's so easy, at first — no strings attached. Or so they tell themselves.

On random, lonely nights, one of them would show up at the other's apartment, donning a bottle of wine and a knowing smile.

There was one night in particular, where Donna allowed herself one glass too many, Harvey drunk off of her, whipped cream on the corner of his mouth.

"We're practically married," he hums into her pussy, and the words are enough to send a spark to Donna's brain, but not much else (there are much better, brighter sparks elsewhere).

"What?" she breathes, all hooded eyes and flushed skin.

Harvey laps at the remnants of whipped cream on her swollen lips before raising his head. She whimpers and pulls at his hair, trying to tug him back down, but he doesn't budge.

"Married," he repeats, thumbs rubbing circles on the insides of her thighs. "We're married."

Donna snorts derisively. "No, we're not."

"Yes, we are." He strokes her kneecap tenderly. "We're with each other every day. You keep my shit together. Hell, you pick out my ties for me."

"Because you know a pop of color goes a long way."

He makes a face and she giggles. Harvey can't help but grin. He loves hearing her giggle.

"I'm just saying —" he punctuates this with a kiss on her clit and her laughter is replaced with a moan — "we're married in every way that matters. And now we have this."

"This?"

He teases her entrance. "This."

Donna rolls her eyes. "So you think we should get married."

"We could get married right now."

This causes Donna to sit up fully. "What?"

Harvey grins. He gets up from the floor, his knees stiff and not caring in the least, and sits on the leather couch, pulling Donna onto his lap. She's still warm and buzzing from too much alcohol and she sinks down on him in one fluid motion. Harvey throws his head back, grappling at her hips for leverage, trying not to lose the upper hand.

"I'm ordained," he manages to get out around a groan.

This earns him a full belly laugh. He watches her breasts bounce from the movement. "Please tell me you're joking."

"Nope," he shakes his head. "I did it on a dare, late at the library one night. It's not that hard to do, you know."

"Not like this is hard to do?" Donna teases as she squeezes her walls around his cock.

"Fuck," he groans, steadying himself on her hips.

"You were saying?" She whispers in his ear.

He rocks his hips into hers, finding their rhythm. "I'm saying," thrust, "I could," thrust, "marry us," thrust, "right now."

Donna's teeth bite down on his earlobe and he shivers. "Do it. I dare you."

Harvey slows, and leans back to meet her eyes.

"Donna Roberta Paulsen," he starts seriously, slowly, and Donna's eyes widen, filling with something — dare he think it — for a split second before it's gone, replaced with mirth and humor.

He clears his throat and tries again, as they continue to move in tandem.

"Donna Roberta Paulsen, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever met."

"Killer start," Donna notes, running her fingers through his hair, down his jaw.

He ignores her and continues. "You keep me honest. You keep me sane. You give me purpose. You give me...everything. You make me happy." He swallows. When did his throat get so dry? God damn wine.

Donna's head tilts as she stares at him with wet hazel eyes, and he laces his fingers with hers. "Will you marry me, right here, right now?"

She takes in a shaky breath. "Aren't you supposed to ask me this before the vows?"

He traces her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "It's all in one. You're all in one."

Soft eyes meet, still joined, though their movements have slowed.

Then Harvey flips them, Donna on her back, and she gasps at the sudden shift and the feeling of his hard shaft drilling into her.

"Do you, Donna Paulsen, take Harvey Specter to be your husband?" he whispers low in her ear.

She grabs his ass and digs her nails into the muscled flesh as he presses deeper. "Yessssss."

"And do you, Harvey Specter, take Donna Paulsen to be your wife?" He pauses for good measure. "Yes, yes I do."

"You're an idiot," she gasps out as he shifts the angle, hands behind her back, helping her to sit up against him. His pubic bone brushes her clit with every thrust.

"And you may kiss the bride."

"Are you the bride?"

"I'll be anything you want me to be."

"Harvey?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and make me come."

He does.

And, like most things, they never speak of it again.

—

It's twelve years later, but it feels like a millisecond.

The second her lips touch his, the synapses that lay dormant fire anew; the parts of him that Donna holds, has held for years, come to life in a flickering instant.

But before he can dive into her, she pulls away.

And a bucket of ice water pours down his back.

Because he's still with Paula.

And another moment of drenching cold as the second realization hits —

He doesn't want to be.

Because there is no one who can make him feel the way Donna does. The way she has, for years now. The way she always would.

She is everything.

It's this thought that enters his mind as he comes home to his empty apartment. It's this thought that sticks with him as he remembers their last night together, all those years ago. On this very couch. He can still taste the sugar on her lips, feel her soft skin, her inviting heat.

He remembers something else, too.

"Harvey?" Donna's voice cuts through the dark. He startles out of a half-sleep.

"Yeah?" he replies groggily, turning to face her.

She's quiet for a moment. "You said we're married in every way that matters."

He doesn't respond, patiently waits for her to continue.

"What ways?"

"Hmm?"

"What ways," she pauses, words on the tip of her tongue. "What ways are those?"

Harvey relaxes into his pillow, still lingering on the edges of sleep. "We're a team. We're confidants. We have trust. Respect. The good parts of a marriage." He adds the last part bitterly. Not many people would catch it, but Donna does.

Still, she presses. "Anything else?"

"I don't know, Donna... we have everything."

"Do we?" Her voice is small.

"Yeah. We do."

"Even —" the words catch and die in her throat, the threat of speaking them aloud clouding the air between them.

When she doesn't elaborate, Harvey probes further. "Even what, Donna?"

"Nothing. Good night, Harvey."

He has an inkling, feels the familiar warmth spread through his chest. But he shoves it aside, out of fear, out of selfish protection, and he succumbs to sleep.

—

Ten minutes later, and he's standing outside her apartment.

He doesn't know what carried him here. All he knows is that his heart is hammering right out of his ribs.

Donna swings open the door, and suddenly he's transported back through their entire history and lands right in this very moment.

She opens her mouth to address him, but he cuts her off.

"We have everything," he blurts out.

Donna's eyebrows knit in confusion, before she sees the look in his eyes. And suddenly, she knows.

And he knows she knows.

But he's here now, and he needs to say it.

"I told you years ago that we had everything. But I didn't mean it then," he says, never breaking her gaze. "Even though I wanted it. I couldn't..."

She's still silent, allowing him time to process, to formulate, and he loves her for it.

He swallows thickly. "I mean it now."

Her eyes are misty. "Why?"

Why now?

"Because I never forgot about that night."

There was still one more thing; the elephant in the room.

"What about —"

Harvey jumps in before she has to say it. "I called her. It's over."

Donna exhales. "Harvey..."

"I loved you then and I love you now. As far as I'm concerned, we've been married since the day we met. And I don't want to pretend anymore. I've had my head up my ass for far too long." His eyes are wide and open and honest, and stare into her soul.

It feels like an eternity, but when Donna finally smiles, the whole world turns on its axis and starts to move again.

"What are you waiting for, Mr. Paulsen?"

He laughs against her lips, and this is the start of forever.