Note: I couldn't let this one go. Jealous Harvey is my kink. Please let me know what you think! :) (more notes are at the bottom)

It started with the roses.

A neatly-wrapped bouquet of roses resting on her keyboard was the first thing Donna noticed upon her return to the office after the new year.

She set down the two coffees in her hand and switched them for the flowers, careful to avoid the thorns.

That's when she saw the note, discretely coupled with her other assortment of post-its and paperwork.

"Beautiful, like you."

That's all it said. No signature, no heart, no fuss. It was typed, so she couldn't discern the bearer's identity from his or her handwriting. Bastard , she thought. She had nothing to go on, no leads of any kind.

Still, her lips curled up against her better judgment as she put the roses in a vase on her desk. It was always nice to be called beautiful.

—

The next morning was hectic. Donna was in early and didn't have much time to stop for breath, much less a bite to eat. She caught up with Harvey in the hallway to brief him on the Cantor case.

"And I'm gonna need —" he started, but she tuned him out as they rounded the corner of her cubicle. A dozen cookies that were definitely not there before sat atop a tray in the middle of her desk. Her stomach growled against her will.

"Donna? Are you listening to me?"

She snapped her head up to look at him. "Did Cantor leave these for you?"

His eyebrows knit together, confused. "What?"

Donna gestured to the treats wrapped in cellophane in front of her. "These. I assume someone left them as a thank-you when you and I weren't here."

Harvey shook his head. "No, he left right after the meeting." He moved to stand over her shoulder. "You're telling me these just appeared here?"

"Uh huh," she said, distracted by a piece of paper attached to the intricate bow.

He smirked behind her, leaning forward to faux-whisper, "You have a secret admirer."

She pulled the piece of paper free with a self-satisfied smirk of her own. "Seems I do."

Harvey read the note over her shoulder.

"Sweets for a sweetheart."

He chuffed. "Christ."

She laughed. "Don't act so surprised."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean , I know this is you." Donna's eyes twinkled. Busted.

Harvey leaned in conspiratorially. "It's not me. You're losing your touch, Paulsen."

Donna's expression shifted. "So the roses weren't from you, either?"

His grin faded. "What roses?"

She pointed to the vase. "Those roses."

"No," Harvey responded. He felt as though something was gnawing deep in the pit of his stomach. "When did you get them?"

"Yesterday," she replied.

Harvey raised his eyebrow and turned towards his office. "Well... let's see what you get tomorrow," he remarked flippantly.

He spent the rest of the day glowering at the vase.

—

Donna came in the next morning and was no longer shocked to see the gorgeous pashmina draped over her chair.

Deep royal blue, slightly sheer, she slipped it over her shoulders with a smile. It matched her dress perfectly.

Harvey scowled from inside his office as he watched Donna fawn over her newest endowment. He didn't realize until it was too late that he snapped his pen in half. Shit.

He grimaced, staring blankly at his computer screen.

Donna was entitled to be...wooed. She could date whoever she pleased.

So what if it made him want to smash his hand into the glass? That didn't mean anything. He just didn't want to see her get hurt.

Bullshit , a voice inside him whispered.

Making himself believe that he really needed a coffee refill, he passed by her desk for a better look.

She radiated peaceful serenity, eyes closed for the moment, and it took everything in Harvey's power not to think about the last time he had seen that look on her face. And that he had caused it.

(He always wanted to be the one who caused it.)

He cleared his throat.

"So? Seems like they stepped up their game," he quipped, feigning nonchalance.

Donna's eyes popped open, cheeks pink.

"Figured out who it is yet?"

"Nope. And I don't think I will." She turned to her keyboard and resumed typing.

"Why not?" Harvey frowned.

"Because I like the chase," she said with a wicked gleam in her eye.

Harvey cursed the fact that Pearson Specter Litt had no showers.

—

So this... secret admirer bought her a book — big deal.

Harvey could do that.

And he tells her as much.

" This, " she waved it in front of his face, "is not just a book."

He tilted his head at her as if to say, "yeah, it is."

"This is The First Folio . Harvey, this is the first published collection of Shakespeare." She paused, running her fingers across the front cover way too intimately for Harvey's liking.

"Ah," Harvey said, putting his hands in his pockets and joyfully leering. "So it's Louis."

Donna shook her head, not looking up from her new prized possession. "It's not Louis."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I just ran into him in the kitchen. He was ecstatic, asking me where I could have possibly gotten this. His eyes practically bugged out of his head. Believe me, he's not as slick as he thinks he is." Donna rolled her eyes.

"Could've fooled me," came the sarcastic rebuttal.

Donna was still in awe. "This is incredible. I have to find out who did this," she continued, depositing the book in her bag with extreme care.

Harvey's stomach bottomed out from under him. Someone anonymously pursuing Donna was one thing — but Donna pursuing them back?

"You're serious?"

She met his gaze. "Yes, I'm serious."

"Why the hell would you do that?"

"How about to say, 'thank you,'" Donna said pointedly.

Harvey pinched the bridge of his nose. "These aren't just cute gifts anymore, Donna. These are specifically tailored to you."

"Harvey, I know what you're trying to say, and I get it, but... I'm a big girl. I can handle a stalker, but besides that, I don't think that's what this is."

"You don't," he deadpanned.

"No. I think it's sweet." She glanced wistfully at the book in her bag. It had been a long time since someone had taken so much interest in her.

"It's not sweet, it's invasive, and you know it," Harvey pressed.

Donna's eyes flashed with annoyance. "Thank you, Harvey, but I don't need the opinion of someone who has me buy my own gifts."

A punch to the gut. Okay, he deserved that. But it didn't make him any less pissed off.

The gnawing monster in his chest reared its ugly head, and no amount of case files were going to make it go away.

—

The gifts came every morning without fail for the rest of the week. Each one carefully thought out — things that meant something to Donna. Most recently, a tiny wooden music box, carved into the shape of a grand piano and played the delicate notes of Clair de Lune. This secret admirer obviously did his homework.

So who was it?

Because as much as she teased Harvey about loving the chase, she hated not knowing.

She ticked off the imaginary list in her head.

Harvey was definitely out.

And a part of her — the part she buried away and rarely accessed in an attempt at self-preservation — had impossibly hoped it was him.

Donna let herself admit that upon receiving the rose, she had truly believed it was Harvey. It wasn't necessarily out of his element; he did surprise her with a bouquet on her closing night. And it was just subtle enough, had that trademark ambiguity that Harvey's gifts often had, few as they may be.

She had pictured him leaving it there, unable to hide his grin, but with that same apprehension he had that night at her apartment, the same apprehension he always wore when they let things go just a little too far.

And now, they were back in a good place since that night, since they couldn't take that leap, since she left him to go work for Louis. They were back in their routine, their familiar tete a tete, toeing the line yet never diving over the edge.

But that was exactly why Harvey wouldn't do something like this.

Because he never could dive head-first into this, into them .

So who?

"Maybe it's Benjamin," Rachel mentioned over their weekly lunch. "He's always had a bit of a crush on you."

Donna stabbed pensively at her salad with her fork. "But the piano? How would he know?"

Rachel nodded, pursing her lips in thought. "He does have his ways."

"No, it's not him," Donna said with finality.

"Well, then you've exhausted everyone at the firm. Unless it's someone who really doesn't want to be found." Rachel narrowed her eyes at her friend, a question bubbling under the surface.

Donna bristled. "What?"

"Are you sure it's not Harvey?"

"Yes, Rachel, I'm sure. After yesterday, I'm more than sure."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that he wasted no time in telling me this person is so horrible, and yet -" she sighed in frustration.

"And yet…?" Rachel prompted.

Donna leveled her gaze. "Nothing. It's nothing."

"Good," Rachel said, folding her napkin over her lap. "It's not his business."

"No," Donna replied slowly, "It's not."

But that didn't stop her from wishing it was.

—

Who the fuck is buying Donna gifts?

That was the one question burning a hole in Harvey's brain for the past week.

The flowers and the cookies were one thing. Innocent enough, and he hadn't really given it much thought until the gifts began to get more... personal.

The pashmina. The book on Shakespeare. The music box.

His knuckles gripped his glass of scotch involuntarily, so hard they turned white.

It shouldn't bother him this much. Why should it?

(He knows why it does. He just can't let himself admit it.)

Good for her. Really. Truly. She deserved whoever it was that paid this much attention to her, knew her this deeply and intimately...

He very nearly hurled the glass against the wall.

The problem was that he wanted to be the one to make her smile like that in the mornings, give her small tokens of appreciation inspired by what she held close to her heart. Give everything to her.

Mostly, he realized what an ass he was that he hadn't been doing this all along.

Harvey knew, deep down, why it made him so angry. Why it hurt to watch someone else make Donna happy. He'd known it for years, but the last time they broached the subject everything went to shit.

So he hadn't tried again.

But this...suitor, jackass, whatever Harvey felt like calling him at the minute, just showed him all that he could have but didn't because he refused to show her how he really felt.

Ever since Donna's trial, ever since he let those three words slip out — as easy as breathing yet twisting themselves in the New York City skyline — this unspoken thing between them that always hid under the surface became more and more prevalent. He just didn't know where to start. So many years spent ignoring them, and now they were out in the open. Or something was out there, and they needed to untangle the blurred lines once and for all.

And his chances were slowly slipping away.

—

The last straw was Tuesday, exactly eight days after the rose had appeared on her desk (not that he was counting).

He made it into the office before her, partly because he couldn't sleep the night before and mostly because he was more than a little anxious to see what had been left for Donna today.

He almost wished he didn't see it.

There, mocking him, lying square in the middle of some cream-colored tissue paper, was a can opener.

A shiny, brand-new can opener complete with intricate carvings or some other bullshit he couldn't see because all he could see was red.

Whoever was doing this just went one step too far.

Donna chose that moment to appear by his side, coffee in each hand. "Harvey, what's —"

"What is this?" He asked, stone-faced, pointing at the offending object like an accusation.

Her gaze tracked his finger to the can opener, and her brows shot up. "I —"

He didn't stick around to hear what she had to say. He shook his head and swore under his breath as he strode towards his office, purposely not holding the door open behind him.

Donna stood, perplexed, gaping at the can opener lying innocently in front of her. She glanced at Harvey, now behind his desk, staring intently at his computer.

She knew him well enough to know he wasn't actually working.

Squaring her shoulders, she pushed open his office door. Immediately he protested.

"Donna —"

"No. Harvey, what's wrong?"

He glared. "What's wrong?"

She didn't say anything, just glared right back at him. A challenge.

Harvey's jaw set. "I want to know who it is."

Donna threw up her hands. "Harvey, I don't —"

"Bullshit." He stood up. "You know everything, Donna, don't stand there and feed me this crap that you don't know who did this."

"You're acting like he committed a crime, Harvey. Last I checked, I'm not being harassed. So you need to let it go."

"Let it —?" He cut himself off, running a hand down his face. He turned to face the window with a resigned sigh. "I don't like it."

Anger blossomed in her chest. As if he even dared. "You don't have to like it, Harvey, it's not about you. "

"It goddamn is about me!"

"What?!"

Harvey pointed emphatically outside the glass. "A can opener? Really?"

"Okay, I'll admit, it's a little unsettling, but —"

"No, Donna, it's a slap in the face." Harvey snapped, eyes boring into hers.

"What exactly does that mean?" Donna seethed.

"You know what it means."

"Do I?! I don't think I do. I'm not a goddamn mind reader, and you need to tell me what the hell is going on, because I don't think — no, I know it's not just about the can opener."

She stared him down, waiting. Silence filled the room, and she could see the muscles in his jaw clench like he wanted to say something but couldn't decide what it was.

It didn't matter. She was done playing this game. "You know what? Forget it." She nodded at him once in defeat before turning and walking towards the door.

Harvey felt the familiar panic in his chest as he watched her walk away.

It was now or never.

"I wanted it to be me."

The words hung in the air like a thick fog. Donna paused by the doorway, frozen in place.

Harvey swallowed and forced himself to continue.

"I wanted to...to be him. To give you those things. Because you deserve that, Donna, you deserve way more than that. Way more than I could ever give you." He turned away from her at that last statement, refusing to meet her gaze.

She stood stock-still for what felt like a full minute. Taking in just what it was that he was saying. What it meant, what it could mean.

She turned and took a small step closer to him. He still wouldn't look at her.

"I wanted it to be you."

He looked up in surprise as she spoke, brown eyes wide with shock and with something else, some raw emotion that was becoming more and more present whenever Harvey looked at her these days.

She let out a quiet breath. "I thought it was you...until you had no idea. And until you were so jealous, you were practically green." She smirked at him.

"I wasn't jealous."

She widened her eyes comically.

"Okay, maybe I was."

Her expression softened. "Harvey…"

He cut her off. "Why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why did you want it to be me?"

Donna couldn't help the smile that spread across her face as she answered. " You know why. "

That was all it took. Harvey crossed the room in two long strides, cradled her face in his hands and kissed her for all she was worth. Which meant more than any gift money could buy.

—

Two figures sprinted away from the office of Harvey Specter, out of breath and high-fiving each other.

"I can't believe that worked," Rachel said, giddy with adrenaline.

"Are you kidding? The can opener was genius. Of course Harvey went apeshit," Mike replied, stepping into the elevator.

"Think they'll figure out it's us?"

"Probably. Doesn't really matter. They won't be doing much thinking tonight."

Rachel smacked him across the chest, but her expression still held laughter and excitement.

It was about damn time.

End

First, thank you to Heather for the wonderful beta, I could not have done it without you. And second, the premise of this fic is based on one of my favorite Iron Man fics by the great VR Trakowski. Here is the link, you should definitely give it a read: s/5041184/1/The-Rival Hope you enjoyed! ❤️