I'm not really sure what this is or where this one-shot came from, but anyway, here it is. I'd love to hear your thoughts.

He watches from the window as their children play in the yard. Both alike in age, though complete opposites in every other way. Though she is dressed like a princess – the blue satin dress an impulse buy on his behalf – she is anything but meek and delicate. She wears a wicked grin, her fiery hair a tangle of knots and her outfit caked with mud. She isn't afraid to pal around like one of the boys and it makes Harvey smile to think that she refuses to pander to the stereotypes put upon her gender. Only six years old and he already knows that she's going grow up to be a force to be reckoned with, just like her mother.

His boy is different though, quiet, thoughtful, never quick to anger. He doesn't resemble his father or mother, in that regard. Instead he takes after a man who died years past, a man he would never know outside of a photograph. His son waves from the window, brushing his floppy hair from his eyes before taking off again.

Harvey returns to washing the pile of dishes in the sink. He could have left them, but the need to have a moment alone far outweighed the obligation of small talk that awaited him in the living room. He had never been comfortable at these functions. Family traditions were sparse when his mother was around, even rarer after she wasn't. He scrapes at the plates, listening to the sound of the children laughing out in the yard.

Without her heels, he doesn't hear her enter the kitchen and join him at the sink. He glances at her, an easy smile on his face. She plucks the plate from his hands and begins drying. Her presence puts him at ease, just as it always has. She's beautiful today, dressed simply in a long-sleeved dress, hair twisted to the side, her eyes bright. Moulded to his side, he can't help but stare at her. He watches her a moment, unabashed, without the tact to hide it. She averts her eyes and glances in the direction of their children.

"She can't stay clean for more than an hour."

His eyes return to the young girl in question, somehow even dirtier than she was moments ago. It makes him smile again.

"I guess it's a good thing you didn't buy her that dress."

Her lips form a thin line. Her eyes flick to him then back at her daughter.

"You spoil her," she says.

He doesn't miss the disapproving tone of her voice. Harvey shrugs off her words.

"I'm not allowed to?"

She clears her throat, snatching another dish from his hands. "Harvey, we talked about this," she reminds him tiredly.

She's right of course; they've had this conversation a dozen times over. It still doesn't sit right with him. "What would you have me do? Ignore her all together?"

She purses her lips and he can spot the tiny frown lines that have appeared around her mouth in recent years. She has aged well, despite this, meanwhile he feels ten years older than his forty-seven years.

"She looks like you," he says.

She wants to stay mad at him, he can tell that much. But she can't help herself, flicking her hair and grinning broadly. "She got lucky."

It's a relief to know that some things certainly haven't changed, despite the fact that there are days when he can't even recognise his own life anymore. The thought disappears as quickly as it came, and a wave of guilt settles over him. His attention is drawn to his son once more. Harvey has more regrets than he would like, but his son has never been one of them.

"I can't believe how old they're getting," she says, pulling him out of his reverie.

"I can't believe how old we're getting," he replies.

She smirks fondly. He half expects her to make a crack about the fact that she doesn't age, or that her best years are yet to come. But she continues to dry the dishes, quietly watching the children run around from the window. He's come to despise the uncomfortable silences that punctuate their conversations. She is always on edge around him nowadays, while the only time he ever feels sane is when he's with her. It's an awful imbalance and it makes him yearn for the symbiotic relationship they once shared.

He reaches for her hand when her guard is down. He ignores the sharp diamond of her ring as it scratches his fingers. She slides her hand away, intent on pretending that the brush of skin on skin was accidental. Harvey is far too tired for any of this.

He steps behind her, bracing an arm on either side of the counter, effectively trapping her. He watches her body tense, senses on high alert. It's a dangerous line he's toeing. He steps closer.

"Don't." she warns.

His arms circle her waist as he kisses the curve of her neck. She refuses to lean into him, but she doesn't push him away either. He kisses her skin again, hands tightening around her frame. She turns around so they're face to face. She pushes gently at his shoulders, but he holds his ground.

Her voice is barely a whisper as she quietly pleads with him. "Harvey…"

His mouth is on hers, swallowing the sound of his name. He kisses her softly at first, encouraging her to open under him. She's reluctant, just as he expected, though how could she not be? This is the very last place he should be doing this.

She does kiss him back though, and he swears he feels like he's back in that moment seven years ago, right when this beautiful mess started. Her hands slide through his hair and he presses her closer, eager to feel every inch of her. Just the feel of her again is enough to make his cock stiffen and his brain short circuit.

In the far off distance he can still hear chatter from the living room and the shrieks and laughs of their children. This is so, so wrong in a number of ways, but kissing her, even at the worst possible moment, is the only thing that makes any kind of sense to him. He wants her now as badly as he ever has.

She pulls away, breathless and heaving, looking so disgusted with herself that it makes his heart ache and his blood boil all at once. She shakes her head violently, detaching herself from his embrace.

"I cannot believe you," she snaps. "What the hell are you thinking?"

He doesn't have an adequate response, not when his son is out in the yard chasing her daughter and his wife is in the next room.

He settles for the most familiar word he knows, "Donna…"

"Why would you do this now, Harvey?"

She's utterly furious with him, and it only makes him want to point out that she kissed him right back. He also arrives at the insane notion that he should tell her he loves her. But he doesn't do either, because this is real life and he's married to someone else and so is she.

Their children come charging inside, leaving a trail of mud in their wake. Donna takes off after her daughter, scooping up the girl in a hug. She paints a shaky smile on her face and avoids Harvey's gaze.

His son rushes to his feet, looking up at him adoringly and Harvey wants to be sick. Donna's husband emerges from the living room and plants a kiss on her cheek. Harvey wants to hate him in that moment, but all he feels is shame. Scottie walks in right behind them and smiles at him, oblivious. She tousles their son's hair.

"It's time we got going," Donna announces. Her husband seems surprised, while Scottie fixes him with a curious look. The children wear the same disappointed expression.

Scottie takes it upon herself to walk everybody out while Donna lingers back for a moment. There are a dozen things he could say to her. But mostly he just wants to tell her he's sorry. Not for kissing her, no, never for that, but for everything before.

"Donna, do you think…if things were different…" he trails off hopelessly.

She offers him a wistful smile. She breaches the distance between them and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He savours the moment, all too aware that there won't be another one like it again.

"I'll see you on Monday, Harvey."

He doesn't chase after her.