Author's notes:

Apologies guys. I wrote this months ago and just forgot. Hopefully this is a nice little chapter for you guys!

A little above Mish rating here,

. .

Chapter 6

. .

"Wait...Harvey...we need to...talk." She says, pulling away from him, her hair slightly fuzzy and

"No no no." He objects, his voice low and commanding. "Of all the things we need to do right now, talking is not one of them. We need to...continue. This. Line. of. Eventuality." He manages in between kisses.

"Harvey," She mumbles against his lips. Their eyes catch, her looks being one of the only things in the world that can stop him dead in his tracks. He sighs heavily, pulling back a fraction, his hands sliding over her shoulders in a weak attempt to disarm her objection.

"Donna...if we don't do this now, it'll never happen." He insists, doubt clear in his voice.

"Well.. if you keep running after other women then it definitely won't," She says, rather pointedly.

His eyes flash at her words then. "Well, as long as you don't strike up any more fuck buddies at the office, then we're good, Right?" He counters harshly.

It's enough to ground them both dead their tracks.

"Harvey," Her voice is like a deadweight, as her head tilts, judging his uneven expression.

He exhales, knowing then that he's gone too far.

"Donna, we need to...broach this hurdle." He tells her, his approach lighter then. "Un-pause the pause button, as it were." He offers. "Realign this...runaway train." He says, a knowing expression on his tired face.

He's right, she thinks to herself. They've been in a decade long rut. That much, they can agree on.

"You know, with every passing day you sound more and more like me." She notes, her expression only then beginning to soften.

"You were bound to creep in there eventually." He reasons, closing the distance between them once more.

He pulls her to him then, in feeling her continued reluctance, he smoothes her sides, his head tilting in the kind of way that usually encourages her argument to wax and wane. "Look, afterwards, we'll talk as much as you want, I promise." He offers. "I'm not trying to be pushy, but I just...I don't want us bailing out on this, like I did last time, and-"

"And the time before that...and the time before that…" She adds tiredly.

"Exactly," He smiles frankly.

She sighs heavily. For once, he's right. They're like a frustrated jockey on a jittery horse, refusing to jump a fresh white picket fence.

"I need a shower." She says, absent-mindedly.

"How big is your shower?" He asks, something primal and luring in his dark eyes.

She catches on quicker than most. "Tiny. Almost...too small." She exaggerates.

"Your bath?" He asks, giving her a look.

He watches as she looks up at him, in the throws of toying with him. "...Bigger." She smirks, reading the vibrant thoughts that streak across his face.

. . . . .

"Well," She says, sighing against the thick cloud of steam that rises up into the air. "Considering it's been over a hundred years since we've even seen eachother naked…" She notes, playing with the bubbles that float in stiff peaks around them, like a snow capped valley of beaten egg whites.

"It sure as hell feels like it's been that long," He agrees, his voice ending in a hum, as she quirks an eyebrow, leaning a little further back into his lap, allowing the action to linger enough to stir up a potent need in him, the tantalising feeling of skin against skin, as he reacts, his arms sliding tighter under and around hers, the fine hairs on his arms brushing against her soft breasts as he presses her further into him.

"We haven't changed that much." She notes, picking up a handful of foam.

"I'd like to think that we're hotter versions of our younger, dorkier selves," He offers, watching as she turns to him, the few hairs that she hasn't pulled into a bun, tickling his nose as she sneaks a look at him.

"You're definitely hotter," She remarks, quirking a predatory eyebrow at him as she tilts her head back and onto his shoulder.

"Really?" He scrunches his face, seeming self conscious for a second, and very unlike himself. "How exactly?"

"Well, firstly...you've lost that cute baby face," She plays, her foam covered hand sliding against his cheek with a marked precision.

"Hey!" He sputters, blowing the spray of foamy bubbles that she leaves against him. "I have not…" He argues, wiping the foam off with a blind eye.

"Not in a bad way." She clarifies, smiling at her perfect assault. "You didn't used to smoulder quite as much as you do now." He tells him, looking into his eyes as he continues to wipe rather unsuccessfully at his face.

"Okay do you really mean smoulder, or do you just mean scowl?" He offers.

She shrugs, unaware of what it does to him in the process. "Sure, you scowl a pretty heavy amount too. But that's just...the Specter charm." She wagers. "Plus your cheekbones are kind of...my cryptonite." She admits, tracing his face with her moist fingers in a way that makes him pout as she sinks gently down enough to look help their eyes meet above her head.

"You know that that makes this incest, right? Superman and Supergirl?" He remarks.

"Shouldn't that be 'Super-woman'?" She corrects.

"Hey, blame Stan Lee, not me." He balks, holding onto her a little tighter, like a well knitted distraction.

"Who's Stan Lee again?" She lands the evocative question.

The look he gives her sends a peel of laughter to fall out of her, as he tickles her sides in retaliation of her crude remark. She giggles, girlishly and unlike herself, sitting up and grasping both of his thighs in a way that has him hissing in held tension, his head leaning forward to plant a kiss against the nape of her neck, a velvet covered moan escaping him at the brazen contact.

She stills for a moment, humming pleasantly when she feels his growing need twitch against her back.

"Okay, we need to go have sex right now, I can't take this," She reams off the words, pulling out the plug at the other end before hopping out of the bath with a lightness.

"You think I don't know that?" He says, giving her a deadpanned look.

She smirks at his slightly pained expression, wrapping a towel around herself.

"What are you doing?" He accuses, his frown lines deepening.

"Drying myself?" She states, confused by his words.

"Oh...good." He says, his erection bouncing slightly as he gets out of the bath.

She arches an eyebrow. "Seriously...has it...always been that big?" She asks, narrowing her eyes at the sight of him.

"I'm just a piece of meat to you, aren't I?" He asks, folding his arms over his chest.

She blinks, the words reminding her of a very different man at a very different time.

How different her life has become...

"No...you're also my bread and butter." She smirks, before she glances at it again, blushing slightly. "You know, looking at it is actually making me a little nervous. Seriously..." She says, putting a hand in front of her face.

"This, by the way," He infers, gesturing between them. "Mocking the merchandise?" He clarifies. "A huuuuge turn on." He says, his voice drenched in sarcasm despite his dead-panned face.

"Come on, you sensitive little creature," She beckons with her index finger, watching as he follows willingly, closing the distance and grasping at her towel to rip it away from her in one fluid motion. "Hey!" She protests, as she freezes in shock, her eyes wide, until his arms slide around her waist, her hands trapped in the space between as they slide down his chest, feeling every inch of his attraction to her in warm wet skin and a strong heartbeat.

He licks his lips, rocking them from side to side and backwards down the hall as he encourages her to the bedroom, their lips half meeting in little pockets of moments until he stops them, just shy of the doorframe, and she disconnects, looking to her bed.

"God...you're....messier than I remember." He remarks boldly.

She looks to him, giving him a defensive look. "I was distraught, Harvey…" She reminds him, poking at his chest. "You were dating someone, and I thought you didn't love me. I practically ran out of the city like Roadrunner." She excuses, giving him a look.

"Hey," He says then, his hands grasping at her shoulders to get her to look at him. "I love you...more than I think I'll ever fully understand." He says, one hand raising to slide the pad of his right thumb against her cheek. "Never doubt that." He tells her.

"Okay," She nods, her voice quiet. "I'll try." The look in his eyes calming her somewhat.

It's all so much. Them. The twenty-four hour turnaround. It's all so new and fresh and her emotions have been like a live wire this past week.

He bends down, kissing her just the right amount to have her melt slightly against him, as her fingers slide into his hair, bringing them closer together. She sighs against his lips as he molds her to his slightly larger frame, pushing her backwards until one leg hooks around hers and his hands brace to break her fall. She makes a slightly strangled 'oh' as he lands her onto the end of the soft unframed bed, the quilt cover muddled in a heap underneath her as he climbs on top of her, his lips tugging at her bottom one before his mouth slips to her neck.

She moans, throwing her head back as she feels his lips slide down her throat, his teeth grazing over one collarbone, as his hands trail across each nipple, flicking over them until his mouth meets the left one. He smiles against her skin as she gasps, her fingers raking across his back as he sucks at her breasts, his teeth gently dragging across the skin before he descends further, his mouth trailing kisses down the middle of her stomach as his tongue darts in a spiral around her navel, before delivering one long stroke against her stomach until he reaches her abdomen, his tongue swirling in a lazy pattern all the way to the tip of her pubic bone. She hitches a breath then, as he presses her legs apart, encouraging her open for him as he trails wetter and wetter kisses down the side of one inner thigh, his own legs lowering to kneel on the floor.

Her bed is oddly low, he notes to himself, as he grasps each of her thighs and pulls her towards the end of the bed.

She looks down at him, her hair having fallen out of it's lazy bun and now pouring like damp burnt caramel waves across the bed. He smirks wickedly, before poking his tongue boldly inside of her. She gasps, muttering something inaudible as his tongue flicks out and upwards, his lips pressing against her with an expert touch, before sucking at her center, eliciting the ripest of moans to stream into the air around them. The sound excites him immediately, and for a moment he's completely lost his train of thought, until his hand raises, and he licks his index finger languishly, before turning his palm over and sliding the finger into her. He feels that immediate tightness in his groin at the feel of her wet and warm and so tempting against his need to take it slow and not be hasty, until she moans, a hand grabbing his wrist, as she sits up, looking at him like he's taunting her.

"Harvey...I….huh...I need you inside me, ...right the hell now." She commands, that sultry and unforgiving look in her liquid hazel eyes.

He chuckles then, disconnecting from her and rising on his feet to catch her lips with his, before she shuffles further back on the bed to allow him to climb over her, settling between her eagerly spread thighs.

"Ruin my fun…" He accuses, making a mental note to pick up where he left off in the morning.

Her hands fold across his shoulders, pressing their chests together before he straightens and enters her, the feeling of her, slick and moist and just a touch resistant as he thrusts half of his length into her. She moans, her mouth sucking at his neck in a way that threatens to ruin him, as he presses down on her hips, heightening the sensation with each deeper thrust. She lays down fully, her back meeting the uneven half strewn pile of various materials beneath her, as he slides a hand up her calf, raising it against his chest with ease. He smirks then, remembering their very first time, and how flexible she had been. Some things, he realises, don't change at all. She curses him at the genius angle, a wave of adrenaline flooding her face as she bites her lip at the refined nature of his love making, until he hits the side of her wall and causes a resounding 'oooooh' to press into the space between them, her right hand gripping his shoulder, her maroon talons digging into his tanned skin. He smiles, overcome by the woman beneath him as his own cheeks start to flush and his thrusts get shorter and deeper, the pressure starting to build in him.

"Harvey," She moans, her breath starting to come in heavy waves.

He forgets himself for a moment, suddenly remembering that she is a woman, and this is not all about him, as his left hand slides between them, moving against her as he starts to pound into the side of her where her leg is lifted against him.

"Fuck," She says, her pitch raising then, as her hand finds his abs, bracing herself against them as she feels herself start to fall to pieces.

"Donna," He manages, her name coming like liquid caramel in his mouth.

It's the single most beautiful thing he's ever seen in his life, he thinks, as the very nature of her gripping around him and moaning into the air fuel his own end. His body jerks from his groin to his chest, removing his hands to her hips to thrust once more, before that familiar spasm of release pools over his body, and he stills within her, examining the sheen of sweat across her face and the fuchsia pink blotches on her freckled cheeks.

For a moment their world is in stereo, their breath the only thing in the world for miles.

"We forgot the condom…" Donna says, finally cutting through the almost silence, as he lowers her leg and himself against her. He pulls out of her, kneeling for a moment in thought.

"Yeah...that was an...oversight." He declares, rubbing at his face for a second, the slightly out of body notion that he's just fucked someone far too special to ruin their life with one stupid moment.

She seems to sense his fear, as she raises off of the bed, her hands sliding around his neck and directing his gaze towards her as her legs fold around him.

"Hey...don't worry...I've been on the pill since I was eighteen." She assures him, watching as he regards her with a noticeable tiredness about him now, his hair sticking up and a softness to his posture.

"I just...I know how you are for planning." He remarks, watching as her gaze double checks his statement, before shaking her head. "Too soon?" He offers, his hands sliding around her waist.

"Now, you're just looking for the shock factor," She accuses, her hands mapping themselves around his face as he regards her for a moment. "I'm going to the bathroom." She tells him then, sliding out of his embrace and instantly cooling his skin in a way that he does not appreciate one bit.

As he hears her pad about the apartment, the sound of lights being shut off in the lounge and the lock on the door clicking into place, he pulls on his boxer-briefs, leaning against the headboard on one side, the comforter - with a notable wet patch - rolled neatly to the end of the bed.

She double takes them, as she returns to the room, him in his underwear and an even more naked smile, and her in a thin silk ivory dressing gown, as she passes the bed, flicking on the bedside light and turning to open a closet, a bundle of assorted quilts falling into her long arms.

"Seeing as my bedspread took the hit," She remarks, unrolling two covers to slide onto the mattress. "These will have to do." She reasons, before walking to the main light switch and turning it off, breaking the room into a muted orange glow as she slides back onto the bed.

"Perfect," He says, moving across the bed closer towards her, his hand pulling her waist to meet his, as their smiling lips collide in more teeth and collective sound than any kiss they've ever shared. It's not long before a joined impulse takes over, and steamrolls either's overly cool post-coital exterior.

"I love you," He tells her, his eyes hazy and slightly unfocused.

"I love you," She replies, letting herself relax fully against him.

He falls asleep to copper hair and rich amber light, the mingled smell of sex, and the flowery notes of peach and vanilla spread about her sheets.

This moment feels new, and wholly unlike all the others that have came after her all those years ago.

. . . .

Donna wakes up to a familiar pair of eyes, her flare for the dramatic catching up with her.

"Hey…'staring at me'," She accuses him by name, causing a shy smile to break out across his face.

"I wasn't staring," He says, his face crinkling with a boyishness. "I was gazing, lovingly at you." He counters.

"Oh…" She says, playing along as she hooks her right leg around his left. "How very romantic comedy, of you." She notes, feeling his hand slide against her left hip as the other one continues to prop up his head.

"Your bedroom looks….different." He observes, his eyes looking about the room to clarify the feeling.

"Well...one...you actually stayed this time..and two...I've redecorated….in the last thirteen years since you last saw it…" She replies heavily, giving him a challenge of a look.

"Well...One….that's mean. We were very different back then," He reminds her. "And you had just instated that little rule of yours," He reminds her, the very notion of it cutting.

"So you did know that you were gonna ask me to work with you before you came to my door," She accuses, her eyes widening at the held information.

"No. I just...back then...I needed you, more like that than like this…" He says. "Which I now know was actually just...my fear of losing you." He tells her. "Of...screwing things up."

"Some things never change, I guess." She shrugs, feeling at odds with the situation at hand.

"Some things have to change, Donna." He points out.

She can see by the look in his eyes, then, that he's well aware of their faults with regards to one another. How they played it so wrong, for so very long. But also aware that they seem the same as they did back then. That that part of them has always been there.

"So...about the talking…" He says, cutting their slightly charged silence in half.

"Harvey…we don't need to-" She starts, seeming to backtrack as she sits up, leaning against the headboard with an unsure look in her eyes.

"No." He argues. "We do. I owe it to you." He insists. "I...ran."

"You..ran?" She confirms.

He nods, insistent that she understand the difference. "Yes. I always...run from how I feel about you. But...I don't want to run anymore." He tells her.

"Did you love her?" She asks.

The words come like an invisible bullet that she didn't intend to shoot and one that he never saw coming.

He reigns in a breath, his jaw twitching. "I...loved her...but I'm not...in love with her." He clarifies, his eyes apologetic, careful as they look at her.

She nods for a moment, taking in the rather succinct answer.

"You...going to her? It hurt me." She states.

"I never did it to hurt you, Donna. I just…"

"What?" She asks.

"I guess...I was...attracted to the fact that...she's a little like you." He admits, sighing.

He knows it's the wrong thing to say when her face sharpens, that steely and purposeful look returning to her hazel eyes.

"See...that's where you're wrong, Harvey. We are nothing alike. If I had been her, and I knew that the woman closest to him, with a notable history was potentially the person he had a shot at being happy with, I would never, ever have accepted his advances, no matter how strong." She tells him. "Leaving out for a moment that I was previously that person's therapist," She points out, her eyes bulging at the idiocy of such an idea.

"Bullshit. You don't know that." He frowns, shaking his head. It's a low blow in his mind, cutting far deeper than he expected.

"What about Scottie? Huh?" She presses. "I knew that you loved her, and that you could be happy with her, and as much as the thought of losing you to her hurt me, I tried to get you see that she was in love with you. And that you had a chance to be in a loving relationship. And to take that chance with her, if that's what you wanted." She reaffirms. So far back and even then the same. "Regardless of how it turned out, Harvey, and how messy it became, I would have stepped back for you." She points out. "But Paula? She held onto you. When she had no right. No matter if you went to her or not. And that...makes us very different."

It floors him. This flood of words coming from her. The lack of doubt in her reasoning.

He understands then, what it's taken for her to literally flee the country. To run from him. From the mess he helped conjure into being.

He fucked up. On several levels. Betrayed her in a way that he had forgotten existed.

And she's right.

Like always.

He feels like an asshole again. That'll teach him for trying to invoke a clean slate between them. For insisting that they broach the subject so soon after such a perfect alteration in their relationship.

He knows now.

Their past is too messy to wash away with too plain a words.

He shuffles, sitting up to match her posture, reaching out to take her left hand in his right one. "I'm sorry that I hurt you, Donna." He tells her, his eyes bending with the guilt that awakens from such a pale truth in his lungs. Like something sterile with a white spirit burn. "I know I can't take it back but...I can sure as hell make up for it from here on out." He promises.

He watches her, on the precipice of her own peace of mind. He can almost see her weighing up the options, examining his words like a final statement in a courthouse full of witnesses.

"I'm in love with you, Donna." He says, naturally gravitating closer to her. "And I don't want you to feel like you have to question that ever again." He insists.

"Harvey…" She says, her gaze lowering. "I appreciate that," She says, diplomacy her only card left to play. "But you also need to tell me that...once in a while." She explains, giving him a heavy look as his hands fold around her and their knees brush, the feeling of her silky robe draping over his thigh.

"I know." He agrees, a reluctance to rehash things. "But I do love you." He whispers in the space between them. "Implicitly." He adds, the words coming out like a hum against her jaw as he traces the lines of her face, etching them in his memory.

"That's quite some statement, Specter." She peels a moan, as his lips press seductively against the underside of her jaw.

"Well you're quite some woman," He smirks against her skin, taking in the floral scent that still lingers in her hair, as his long fingers lace in between hers, pulling their left and right hands flush together as he moves to kneeling. "Now...I made myself a little promise, that this morning...I would finish what I started last night." He tells her, low and sultry to match his directive.

"And what exactly is that?" She asks furtively, hiding the interest in her voice as she smirks at his obviousness.

"Oh...just a little….ritual." He divulges.

"Reinstating it, are we?" She purrs against the feeling of his lips just below her ear, and her helpless but to feel his welcome advance.

"Mmm-hmmm," He hums in confirmation, pulling back to wrap his hands around her waist, gently sliding her onto her back. "No more can openers for us..." He mumbles against her skin.

She spreads out against the mattress with a lazy and expectant smile, closing her eyes to focus on the feeling of his lips and teeth and tongue sliding down to a rather inviting and oddly familiar scenario.

She could get used to this newer side of him,

Amongst the old, more familiar ones.

She feels every vowel,

And every consonant,

As he eagerly traces her name with his tongue.

. . . . .

If I lay here

If I just lay here

Would you lie with me

And just forget the world?

I don't quite know

How to say

How I feel

Those three words

Are said too much

They're not enough

If I lay here

If I just lay here

Would you lie with me

And just forget the world?

How to say

How I feel

Those three words

Are said too much

They're not enough

If I lay here

If I just lay here

Would you lie with me

And just forget the world?

All that I am

All that I ever was

Is here in your perfect eyes

They're all I can see

I don't know where

Confused about how as well

Just know that these things

Will never change for us at all

Chasing Cars By 'Snow Patrol'

. . . . . .

As always feed the kitty!