A/N: C'mon guys! No one wrote a Jarvey fic after that premiere?! No one! That kitchen scene...guys?! I was dying for a fic. I mean, contrary to popular belief I'm a reader not a writer! Please people! I loves my Jarvey! Okay, fine. Well lulu2613 apparently I thought of something. So request granted. ;) It's rushed and it sucks but it's something.:)

Disclaimer: I don't own Suits. I don't own the characters. I don't own Gina Torres' kickass Paella recipe. Unbetaed. I apologize right now for any errors that come up. Reviews are welcomed and appreciated. Enjoy...or not! I'm rambling now. Sorry.

~o~

"You were in there a while." Jessica quipped. She had her back to him and was stirring something at his stovetop, but he could hear the amusement and accusatory tone in her voice and he could sense the smirk on her face.

"I took a shower Jess, get your mind out of the gutter," he shot back quickly as he slid into his place at the table she had set.

He took a shower alright. A quick shower. A quick, cold shower, but one glance at her ass in that tight skirt, bent over the stovetop, her sliding a barefoot across the back of her leg as she unconsciously scratched at her ankle, hair swaying as she tried to keep it from falling forward over the food…it made him gulp. His mouth was watering and he wasn't sure if it was from the incredible blend of spices permeating the air, lingering pheromones from his acts of debauchery with Lacey? Carrie? Whatever her name was, from that morning, or the images his overactive hypersexual mind conjured up when she stood before him fifteen minutes ago and asked if he was picturing her naked. Maybe it was all of the above. All he knew was that it almost was enough to drive him right back in the bathroom to actually do what she accused him of.

"As I recall, you were the one with the dirty thoughts, not I," she sat a piping hot plate in front of him, and cocked her brow at his startled expression. Despite being lost in thought he still managed to be staring off at her cleavage, and she knew as much, because when he cleared his throat and looked into her eyes she gave him an intuitive smirk.

"Touché." He flashed a smile of his own and this time made it known that he was watching her as she walked away from him, retrieving her own plate and glass of wine before settling in the seat across from him.

"You know…" he started before placing a spoonful of food in his mouth. His eyes nearly rolled in the back of his head as he chewed and swallowed and she stared at him expectantly. "Holy shit!" He placed his spoon down and couldn't hide his honest to God dismay that she was capable of making something so incredible. "What the hell is that and why haven't you made it for me before?"

She chuckled as she dug into her own plate and took her time chewing slowly before smiling at him coyly and responding. "Paella, and since when am I required to make you dinner?"

"Birfday rqwest?" He asked around a mouthful of food.

"Mmm," she responded her spoon clinking against the plate. "Noted."

"Ish that a yesh?" he shoveled more food into his mouth.

"No talking with your mouth full," she scolded him like a school teacher. Only shaking her head when he gave her a toothy grin. "Such a goddamn child," she muttered to herself. "That's a maybe."

He closed his eyes and swallowed, humming approvingly of the blend of spices and flavors bursting in his mouth. "Dear God…" he moaned as he washed down his food with a most spectacular glass of wine. Okay and maybe watching Jessica lick her lips sparked something in him as well.

"I prefer Jessica," she winked at him, and of course something inside of him clenched. "New rule, at the very least half of the tarts you bring home to screw should know how to cook. A simple meal shouldn't bring you to your knees."

"The tarts I bring home aren't required to cook although occasionally they're the ones on their knees…" he smiled at her over the rim of the glass, enjoying their exchange.

"Perverted bastard," she shook her head at him and took a long sip out of her own glass. She snorted when he made a kiss face, and ended up having to dab at a few drops of wine that trickled down her chin and throat.

He shook his head trying to rid of himself of the less than kosher thoughts that had been swirling around his mind since the second he walked into his apartment and seen her barefoot and cooking at his stove. He was no stranger to lustful feelings he harbored for Jessica. They were always there, buried beneath the surface. It was more than a lust, if he really thought about it. The problem is, he hadn't been this bad with picturing her naked and preferably sprawled across his bed since he worked in the mail-room. She was an attractive woman and he was sexually attracted to her the moment he met her, but over the years as their relationship and friendship progressed and he grew to know her, she became so much more than that. The youthful school-boy fantasies he had when he was twenty disappeared a long time ago. Or so he thought, but tonight it was like a long abandoned chest of lascivious thoughts burst open and all of them came pouring out.

"You haven't heard a single word I've said, have you?" she canted her head to the side and her long hair cascaded over her shoulder exposing just enough of her neck to make his pulse jump.

"Wait…what?" he cleared his throat as he met her gaze. Her eyes were burning into his and she was leaning forward, her forearms resting on the table before her, the action causing her breasts to be pushed forward, and even though he couldn't see very much, it was the mystery of what lay beneath the silky material that drove him wild. He knew his heated gaze was laser focused on her breasts and the column of her neck and he could feel her glaring at him, but he didn't even try to hide it anymore. They were having too much fun and he didn't care.

"You're still picturing me naked aren't you?" her lips were pursed and her brow shot up in its trademark arch, and she was visibly trying to keep herself from laughing. She may not admit to it but she couldn't convince him that she wasn't at least somewhat flattered.

He shrugged as an answer, shoving his damn near licked clean plate to the side and draining his wine before refilling it. "You can't blame me," he responded coolly and only a bit defensively. He made a point of giving her a slow and thorough once over before, a slow, mischievous smile formed on his lips as he waggled his eyebrows at her. "You can't tell me you never thought about it…"

"Picturing you naked?" she let out a delicate snort as she sat back in the chair, crossing her legs and her arms. "Nah, I've seen you naked already. I don't need to imagine it."

"Bull-Wait when have you seen me naked?" he sputtered on his drink, scanning his brain for anything that could have slipped his mind. He'd never been drunk enough in the fifteen years that he had known her to forget anything remotely close to either of them being in any state of undress save for a discarded tie or kicked off shoes in front of one another.

"Must I remind you of the streaking incident of 2007," she stage whispered, her deep brown eyes sparkling with mischief and a fondness that made him warm inside.

"Right," the somewhat hazy recollections slowly came to him and he shuddered. "We agreed to never talk about that.

"You agreed to never mention it, I filed it away in my arsenal of Specter secrets, and damn if that thing isn't filled to the max," she chuckled.

It was husky and warm like the alcohol and hot meal had put her at ease, made her comfortable in that way that he loved because she was so relaxed and open. In those moments she was the Jessica he loved, the other Jessica who was his peer and friend, the one that she kept so well hidden from so many others. It was always a privilege, an honor to bear witness to that Jessica, Jess, because he knew she didn't share that part of her with too many people. It made him feel special. Although, from what she had shared, Malone got to see that Jessica and more. So much more. He let out a groan that he attempted to mask with a cough as his mind wandered right back to her being naked.

"No, but really," he pinned her with his best soul-piercing glare that he perfected back when he worked at the D.A's office after hours of staring down criminals. "You can't say you never imagined us together. Ever."

He watched as she took her sweet time sipping from her glass, her lips curled up in a barely visible smile, a fiery gaze beneath thick lashes. She placed her glass down and steepled her fingers beneath her chin. "Finished with that Harvey?" she gestured at his empty plate. "Want more?"

"Oh no," he shook his head slowly never breaking her gaze. "Don't avoid the question. Answer it. I could argue that not answering it is answer enough but I need to hear you say the words," he all but growled. "Slowly and in great detail." A jolt of victory and pride swelled in him when her face flushed a bit.

"I like men, not boys," she cooed. She locked eyes with him, her expression both playful and intimidating. If she was going for the man-eater look she excelled at it. He gulped and something low in his stomach clenched.

"I asked you about me, not Mike," he shot back. He leaned back in his chair, his ankle resting across his opposite knee. He distracted himself and her with tracing the rim of his glass and exuding all the confidence bordering on his usual arrogance that he could muster.

"I don't know," she said slowly. "From what I hear Mike's well-equipped, eager to please, and apparently does great with the…how did he put it? The cougars," she jutted her chin out at him as if daring him to take this game of theirs further.

"Donna?" he inquired though he already knew the answer. God himself couldn't keep anything away from Donna Paulsen.

She merely shrugged, that playful smile on her lips causing him to lose himself in fantasies of just what she could do with them.

"You already know I'm well-equipped," he nodded at her daring her to contest. "And I don't have to be eager about pleasing because I'm already confident that I can."

Her mouth dropped open just a bit before she had the right mind to shut it. A low, husky chuckle spilled out. He had really tickled her with that one and definitely caught her off guard, and it made him happy that he had the power to do that and amuse her so much. He hadn't known how their relationship would fair after the obstacles they faced. He didn't know how they would mend fences, or even if they could. He just knew that he feared that they wouldn't. He feared that he wouldn't have this woman who was his friend and his anchor keeping him grounded and holding this place, this special and inexplicable place in his life. He was afraid that they wouldn't be able to get back to what they used to be. But if he had to be honest with himself, he'd say that they went to hell and back, came through the fire, through the flames stronger and closer than ever. As her partner he had never felt this close to her. He felt as though he was seeing pieces of Jessica Pearson that he never seen before. He successfully pulled back a few layers of the most multi-layered woman he had the pleasure of knowing. They were partners, in the truest sense, and he never felt more equal to her. He never admired her more, respected her more, cared for her more than he did now. Even at that moment, their banter had changed. Their sexy bantering was more text than subtext. They went from covert innuendo to balls to the wall overt flirtations. It was new for them, a new level of their usual thing, and somehow it's what brought them out of that uncomfortable place that they had been in. They were more open with one another, and had been learning more things about one another as their personal and professional lives bled into each other. He hadn't really thought about their professional partnership being the equivalent of a marriage, but it was. They exposed themselves in new ways, more ways than they ever had before.

"Now you're picturing me naked," he was gloating. He didn't bother to hide it and her lack of a comment only fueled him.

"I think I've come to a decision about Jeff," she said rather abruptly. Her smile and happy glow seemed to slowly disappear as she stared off in his general direction unseeing. "We should hire him," she said firmly and business-like. That stoic façade of hers was overtaking her.

He studied her a bit before nodding slowly.

"What?" She asked, not hiding her puzzlement over his being less than verbose. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking…I never in a million years imagined that we would graduate from having important discussions on the rooftop to having them over home-made dinner. If this is a new partner perk then we should discuss everything all the time."

"The rooftop grew tiresome," she chuckled. "Some not so great memories as of late. Besides, I was hungry."

"You didn't argue against doing this regularly," he pointed out.

"No, next time dinner's on you," she snapped back. He could tell from the look she gave him that she was serious.

"Only if dessert is on you…" his voice trailed off and she shook her head at the double entendre. He bit his lip. "No dessert?"

"Ah," she made a point of shuddering. "I'm guessing with the questionably sticky can of whipped cream, the almost empty chocolate concoction, and the skimpy remainders of fruit offerings in your refrigerator that dessert was on whomever you were with this morning," she shook her head before rising from the table and gathering their dirty dishes and making her way to the sink.

"Oh right…" he muttered. "That was actually breakfast," he called out to her.

"Pervert," she teased him as she returned to the table to finish clearing it out.

"Jess," he grabbed her wrist as she went to retrieve the bread basket on the table. "Did he make you happy?" He asked with all seriousness. So many emotions flickered across her face before she blinked and put on a false smile.

"He kept me satisfied," she shrugged with indifference, but he could hear a disappointment beneath the faux cheer. "We weren't serious…we were just…"

"Lonely?" he offered. His mouth formed a tight line when she didn't acknowledge what he said before she walked away.

A silence fell over them as she filled the sink up with dishes and begin washing.

"You can have both you know," he said quietly, seriously as he came up behind her. The scent of her was overpowering him as was the sight of her in that tight red skirt.

"Yeah, because that worked out so well for you," she scoffed. She elbowed him in the stomach, and part of him knew it was to put some distance between them but he didn't fall back.

"You cooked, it's only fair that I do the dishes," he mumbled. He slid his arm across her waist as he dunked it into the dishwater, trying to resist leaning any further against her body. The body heat alone from the minimal space between them was already too much, not to mention the intoxicating scent that was purely Jessica.

"Gee honey, you're so considerate," she quipped, but it came out somewhat breathy. Her body was tense, almost rigid, as if she was trying to keep herself in control with him being so close to her, and the thought of that thrilled him.

"Who'd have thought either of us was capable of being domesticated," he joked, though his voice came out huskier than he intended it too. He slid close beside her and they worked in silence for a bit, him washing and her drying. The tension between them thrummed and swirled around and was enough to make the hairs on his body stand on end.

"Why can't you allow yourself to be happy?" He asked quietly. He stepped behind her again, placing some of the dried dishes in the cabinet. "Why won't you let yourself have both?"

She sat the plate she was holding down with a thud, and gripped the counter, bowing forward and exhaling as if trying to release frustration. She wouldn't turn to face him, possibly because she'd literally be nose to nose with them, and neither of them could ever handle being that close without things being somewhat awkward beneath the surface. "Why do you care so much?" She whispered. There was a warning in her tone, the one that tipped him off that she instinctively knew what was behind whatever he was really saying. "Why do I feel like we're not talking about Jeff?"

He was surprised that she took a more direct route. When it came to them and their ambiguous 'thing' she typically skirted around the issue or ignored it. He leaned into her until his body was pressed up against her back, and he inhaled her hair. It tickled his nose but it smelled so sweet like coconut and vanilla. He exhaled slowly and was truly shocked at how responsive she was to that. She tried to remain rigid, tightly coiled and in control but he could feel it slipping. He ran his hands down and along her arms, his eyebrow rose as he noted the goosebumps that suddenly appeared on her skin. He continued his path down until his own hands slipped into hers.

"You always say you don't like to shit where you sleep," he breathed, rocking them both forward as he rubbed his nose along her neck, his lips brushing but not quite kissing along its length. "But do you know what you call the place where you shit and sleep?" He mumbled against her skin.

"Harvey…" she sounded genuinely confused, hesitant, and a bit turned on. Her head falling back some was the only indicator she consciously gave him that indicated that his ministrations, behavior, and words were having any let alone the intended effect on her.

"Home." He said firmly. His hands found themselves on her waist and he turned her around suddenly until she was facing him. Their faces mere inches apart, and his hands gripped the counter at each side of her, caging her in.

"You're trying to change my mind," she noted. She ducked her head in an effort to draw his attention back to her face rather than her breasts, which seemed to draw his attention again.

"I'm just trying to point out that there is more than just option A and option B," he swallowed hard as he tried to clear his head. "Everything doesn't have to be…" he paused and a slow smile pulled at his lips as he put as much intonation in the rest as possible, "black and white."

"What are we doing?" she leveled him with her glare that always stripped him away of all of his defenses and left him feeling as exposed as he was the day he was born.

"Nothing…yet."

"You're not going to change my mind, Harvey," she said firmly. "About…about, any of it."

"I can try," he drawled, his nose burying into the side of her neck again before pulling away.

"Is this about Malone?" her voice was barely above a whisper. "Or is this about you?"

"This is about you," he responded just as quietly, and genuinely as the myriad of feelings he harbored for her bubbled up inside of him. "This is about you being happy. That's all I'll ever want for you, Jess." His eyes bored into hers and they had one of their moments that the outside world could never break…and other people could never quite comprehend.

"So option A, B, or C?" she breathed out after a bit, giving him that smile that made him weak.

"Or option D?" He said suggestively, his heated gaze gliding over her.

"Option D?" her eyes widened brows practically up to her hairline. "Seriously?"

"Seemed fitting," he whispered as he leaned in. His eyes never broke away from hers as he leaned forward, slowly, cautiously, giving her the chance to back away and break the spell that seemed to have fallen over them an hour ago, but praying that she wouldn't like she had so many other times. He caught her lips in his to his complete and utter dismay and she didn't break away from him. He nibbled and suckled at her lip, tasting the paella and wine they had for dinner and the mouthwatering taste that was all her. His hands slid down her waist, wrapped around her hips, gripped at her ass, and the excitement he felt shot straight to his groin.

She broke away and his heart clenched as it hit him what they had been doing. He opened his mouth to say something but nothing would come out. She placed a finger to his lip to shush him and it took everything in him to not nip at her fingertip.

"Not a word," her voice was that authoritative one that she used at the office and he froze, not knowing what she would say next. "Remember when I said they thought I couldn't control you?"

He nodded his head questioningly, as her hand slid across the stubble on his jaw and back through his hair.

"You're about to find out that I can," she said cheekily, she pushed his head down until he was on his knees in front of her, his hands wrapped around her waist.

"Jess?" he was literally and figuratively floored, no way in hell she was implying what he thought she was implying but she merely raised an expectant brow as she looked down at him, and canted her head as if ordering him to get to work. "Guess I'm getting dessert after all," he growled huskily as he ran his hands down her thighs and slowly rose her crimson covered skirt up.

~o~

The alarm clock blared obnoxiously, clearly in its fourth stage of warning him to get the hell up before he was late for work. He sprung up, sheets sweaty and twisted around him. His bare torso covered in a light sheen of sweat, his hair matted to his head, and not so little Harvey standing at full attention.

"Shit!" he muttered to himself. His eyes widened when he thought about the nature of the dream he just had and it took everything in him to not flop back down and try to recapture it. His phone chirped from its spot on the nightstand and one glance at the name was enough to make him balk.

Jessica Pearson: $15 says you had a dirty dream about me last night. Just remember to wash your hands. :)

He knew she was jesting, after their playful exchange the previous night in which he made no secret that he had been picturing her in flagrante, but damn if she wasn't right. Although, she usually was. These days in particular as she made it a point to call him out whenever she got the opportunity to on his choice of burying himself in work and random women in an effort to get over Scottie. Although she didn't mind the work aspect at all and only minded the hypersexuality when he shamelessly flirted with anything in a skirt around the office, herself included, and it interfered with the work. That's what it had to have been about. Or so he would convince himself of that. He groaned, before jumping out of bed and heading for the show to get ready for work.

~o~

She was sitting on her couch when he slipped in a half hour late and slid a cup of coffee across the table towards her.

"Nice of you to join us, Mr. Specter," sarcasm oozed from her voice. "You brought me coffee?" She gestured at the cup in front of her before looking up at him. "Is this to make up for dinner or for the fact that you refused to help with the dishes?"

"Both," he answered truthfully. She pursed her lips at him and shook her head and he smirked.

"Asshole," she muttered under her breath.

"Don't I know it," he agreed. "Speaking of which…" he slid a twenty across the table too, and cleared his throat.

She burst out laughing so hard and so long that she held her stomach, and he wondered if half the associates would come pressing their nosy little faces up against the glass to see what the commotion was about. "I knew it!" she crowed.

"Haha, laugh it up chuckles," he shoved his hands in his pockets, rolling his eyes are her theatrics.

"I said $15 not $20," she had barely composed herself and her eyes were sparkling with humor.

"Keep the change," he shot back, his mind wandering to the previous night. "You did a... thing." He winked at her and chuckled at her expression. "Hey," he started, more seriously that time. "You talk to Malone yet?" he inquired.

"We…talked last night," she responded rather coyly, a faraway look in her eye.

"I see," a slow lewd grin spread across his face. "He rode it one last time eh?"

"More like I rode it," she muttered under her breath, surprising him. She seemed to enjoy his reaction, because she naturally had to take it one step further. "I like to be on top." She winked at him and went back to work, leaving him shell-shocked.

He nearly choked on the air he was breathing as images popped into his head. He was a very visual person, always had been. Probably contributed to why he had a way with words, could paint a million pictures with a mere sentence. He was so consumed with his thoughts he almost didn't hear her call after him.

"Harvey," she waited for him to turn around, pure amusement in her tone and on her face. "The Lewiston file?" She gestured to the file he had tucked under his arm.

"Yeah…uhh, right," he tossed the file on her desk and studied her for a long moment before reaching into his wallet and pulling out another crisp bill and tossing that on the desk too. She grinned at him, that small, sexy half grin that occasionally drove him nuts, and she made a show of tucking the money into her bra before getting back to her paperwork.

"Minx," he muttered under his breath as he walked out of her office, trying to refrain from readjusting his pants that suddenly felt a bit too tight. He could still hear her laughter echoing in the halls.

~o~