Donna tops off the two wine glasses on the coffee table before setting the empty bottle of merlot on the table. Returning to her spot on the couch, she reaches for her freshly topped off glass as Rachel does the same. Donna folds her legs up beneath her and reaches for the blanket again to cover her lap.

"Ready for the next episode?" Donna asks Rachel.

One of Rachel's few free evenings off of school has allowed Donna to return to her viewing of Mad Men. Now that the show is half way into its final season, Donna would like to definitely find out what happens beyond season 4. Since Mike and Rachel broke up almost a year ago, it's hard to get more than a lunch with Rachel, especially since Mike started dating that Amy chick that used to work for him regularly. In retrospect, Donna hadn't even known he'd kept into contact with her.

Rachel swallows her large gulp of red wine and nods. Some lukewarm liquid dribbles onto her chin as she says, "Yep."

However, Donna's boyfriend has alternative plans as he throws open the front door to her apartment just when her finger is hovering of the button on the remote to start the episode. Donna looks at Harvey, confused because she wasn't expecting him home until much later in the evening. He was supposed to be working late then getting a drink with Mike.

"What are you doing home?" She asks.

He's barely in the door before he's peeling his suit jacket off and laying it across the back of the couch. She leans forward to return her glass onto the coaster on the table. He sits beside her, his thigh pressing against hers, and begins unbuttoning his vest.

He sighs when it's fully unbuttoned and turns his gaze towards her. "Remember my friend Troy? In D.C.? He called half an hour ago and said it's time to return the favor."

"But you can't practice law in D.C.," she says.

"He's still technically a resident of New York so I can if that's what he needs," he replies with a shrug. His vest falls onto the couch behind him and he takes his tie off. He kicks his shoes off. "I'm not even sure what he needs me for, he just said it's sensitive and he needs to see me in person."

"Wait," Donna says suddenly, "You're going tonight?"

"Yeah," Harvey says, lips tightening as she notes the slight annoyance in his tone. He unbuttons his shirt from top to bottom before finally leaning back against the couch cushions. "What are you girls doing?"

"Wine refills and Mad Men," she replies, "That Don Draper is one good looking man."

"Please, he only wishes he was as good looking as Harvey Specter," Harvey replies.

Donna rolls her eyes and looks at Rachel who seems to be burying her nose in her glass of wine to keep from giving a retort. Donna winks at her friend before shifting her gaze back to her boss and boyfriend. His eyes are already closed, his head rested on the back of the couch.

"You can't fall asleep if you're leaving," she says. He peels an eye open and sits up, reaching for her glass. He takes a drink from her glass and replaces it on the table from where he got it. Donna watches all of this, feeling sorry for the interruption when she'd promised a girl's only evening. "You didn't even say hello to Rachel."

"I didn't say hello to you," he points out.

She pushes into a standing position, the blanket she's sharing with Rachel falling back onto the couch, and steps over him. She turns then, places her hand on his knee, and reaches to the floor for his shoes. Once she has his shoes, she grabs his vest and his suit jacket.

With arms full, she says, "Give us just a second, Rach."

"Sure," Rachel says, eyes crinkling with a forced smile.

Donna lightly taps him on the shoulder and motions towards the bedroom. Reluctantly, Harvey follows her motion, all swagger missing from his shoulders. He immediately huffs once they're in the bedroom.

"Why don't you rest for a couple of hours and I'll wake you up so you can get on the road?" She suggests.

He lightly shakes his head, taking his pants off and tossing them onto the bed. He says, "No, I have to be there as soon as possible."

"You've been up since-"

"Donna," he interjects forcefully, "I'll be fine. Just don't forget to pick up my suits from the dry cleaners. Maybe take in a few more, including this one, when you go. I'll also need you to file some motions and reschedule all of my meetings for the rest of this week into next week. Anyone who won't reschedule, pencil in with Mike and if they refuse to talk to Mike, ask Louis but only if they have to have a senior partner. Also, I'm going to need you to do evaluations for me."

"I can't do the work of a partner," she replies.

"Come on," he says, taking his shirt off and only adding it to the pile before beginning to move about the room for a change of clothes, "It would end up being you and me sitting in my office evaluating people the way you tell me to anyway."

"You can't just have your girlfriend evaluate all of the firm's partners because you have an emergency favor."

"Donna," he says, turning away from the closet with a pair of khaki pants in hand, "I'm not having my girlfriend evaluate the partners. I'm having my secretary evaluate the partners."

"I deserve a raise," she replies.

"You already have access to my bank accounts. What more could you want?" He asks. He smirks then, pulling his pants on and buttoning them. He zips them up and takes a light step towards her and lightly kisses her on the corner of the mouth. "I'm willing to compensate you for all of your hard work."

"Oh, Harvey," she says with a laugh, "I don't want sex. I want a new outfit."

"You can have both," he says. He slaps her on the ass and pushes her in the direction of the door.

She goes back into the living room where Rachel is waiting patiently, glass of wine half gone, lips in a slight pout. Donna keeps her mouth shut about Rachel's melancholic look, knowing full well that her expression is because of all of the hard work she put into a relationship that just couldn't last. Between law school and work and, well, the amount of work Mike put in at work, the pair just didn't have enough time to work their issues out.

So, Donna says nothing to Rachel about it, just returns to her seat. She says, "Sorry, Rach. We had to discuss work stuff."

"You're so domestic together," Rachel comments.

Donna reaches for her glass of wine and takes a long sip. She shrugs and puts the glass back on the table. She says, "Well, we stopped dancing around each other and now we dance together."

"It works for you," Rachel says.

Just then, Harvey swoops back into the living room, a bag and a suit in hand, and drapes his suit over the couch, his bag behind the couch. He absently picks off of a plate left on the table as Donna starts the next episode of Mad Men. She can hear him shuffling behind the couch, moving in out of the kitchen to the table and back.

The refrigerator door closes in the kitchen. Donna glances behind her at the sound to see his shadow hover in the doorway between the dining room and the kitchen. She turns her attention back to the television. She hears him shuffle into the room.

She feels his hand lightly brush her hair away from her neck before he leans forward. He lightly presses his lips against her neck, other hand lightly falling to her shoulder. His lips are warm on her neck and she lifts her hand to his hair. Her fingers slightly move through his hair and he pulls back. He hands her a freshly corked bottle of red wine.

"I'll call you in the morning," he says. He grabs his suit and bag and heads towards the door. The door creaks open and she turns her head to watch his retreating form. He says, "Make sure you get some sleep tonight."

Donna's halfway to the dry cleaners, Ray in the front seat escorting her to Harvey's favorite location seemingly across town, when her phone rings in her purse. She digs through her purse, chipped nails disappearing into the fabric, to find the device with the distinct tune. She finally finds her phone buried at the bottom of her handbag and pulls it out to see Harvey's face covering the screen.

Answering it, she says, "Hell –" Moves her hair out of the way "– hello?"

"Hey," he replies. He sounds tired, like he's either been sleeping or so close to sleeping that he can barely keep his eyes open. Her hair brushes over the back of her hand as Ray honks his horn at traffic. "Where are you?"

He sounds confused like he isn't thinking straight and can't piece the timing together. She peeks out of the driver side back window to see if there's any traffic moving. She sighs and pushes her hair back out of her vision before leaning back against the seat.

"Stuck in traffic," she says with a wave of the hand. She huffs and catches Ray's gaze in the rearview mirror, like maybe he had mistaken her phone call to be talking to him. She smiles tightly and tilts her head to the side to fix her hair straying to the wrong side of her shoulders. "I guess you made it in okay?"

"Yeah," he says, seemingly through a yawn. She knows what he looks like when he yawns now, uninhibited and vulnerable and not caring if she sees him being weak anymore. "About two hours ago. I didn't want to disturb your morning routine. Have you had a chance to reschedule my meetings yet?"

"Honey, I haven't even made it into the office," she says. She sounds impatient and annoyed, she knows, snapping at him despite the fact that it is less than 10 minutes until 8 and she's going to the dry cleaners before she goes into the office. She recovers though, glancing out of the car window just as Ray inches the vehicle forward. "I know you have an eight-oh-five with Gunderson but I thought he could wait after what he did to you last time you had a meeting."

"Good," he replies, "Wait half an hour and let him know I won't be in this morning."

"This morning? Does this mean you found out what Troy needs?"

He sighs and says, "I can't even find Troy. I've been outside of his apartment and he's nowhere in sight. I'm going to grab a coffee once we get off of the phone."

She wants to say that she told him to stay, to grab some sleep before he got on the road, but she doesn't want to poke the bear. He can be hotheaded at times; she knows he can be better than anyone, but the fact that she knows and still doesn't feel the need to ruffle his feathers is what makes them a good match. In retrospect, she doesn't even know how she went for years trying to pretend they weren't and could never be the real deal when everything has fallen into place so well now.

It took months, near a year, for them to finally get their lines drawn appropriately after their brief fallout, but now they're both living in her small one bedroom apartment waiting for his condo to sell. Her apartment is overflowing with his things, their things, as they struggle to pack everything together. Their closets specifically are suffering, and as he rambles on so he can keep his eyes open she feels like she's suffering, too.

He says, "I've been waiting outside of Troy's house for so long without any idea as to why I'm even here. I can't believe I drove four hours for this. I should have slept like you said."

She feels her mouth pull into a smile as the vehicle jolts forward. She says, "Go grab some coffee. Call if you need me."

"That's it? Not even an 'I told you so'?" He says, confusion resting in his tone.

"If you want an 'I told you so' then I can give you an 'I told you so'," she counters.

He laughs then, "I'm fine, but thanks for the offer."

"Suit yourself," she replies. They seem to make it to the dry cleaners in no time suddenly and she gathers the clothes that need to be cleaned. It consists of 6 suits and 8 dresses but she's been bringing the laundry together for years. She sighs then, pushing her hair back from her eyes, and says, "I just got to the dry cleaners. I have to go."

"Okay," he mutters, "I'll give you a call when I get a hold of Troy. Let me know if you have any problems rescheduling today."

Once they get off of the phone, she informs Ray that she will only be a few minutes. Her hands are full between balancing her purse, her phone, and the full bag of laundry. Ray moves to help her but she protests before he can get out of the car. Cars honk at Ray as she pushes the door open, but he ignores it. She goes inside, a woman with a strong accent barking at the man behind the corner.

Donna smiles apologetically at him as the woman finally leaves. She says, "Hello, Arthur. Just here for the usual."

"Miss Paulsen," Arthur says with a smile, "Don't move, don't move. I have something for you."

She stands still for a moment, eyebrows knit in confusion, not really sure what he could possibly have for her. She watches him as he disappears into the back where all of the clothing disappears. He's gone for about 30 seconds too long because she begins tapping her heel on the white, linoleum floor. He comes back urgently, with a waddle.

"I found this in one of Mister Specter's pockets," Arthur says, extending a black velvet box.

She nearly drops everything in her hands as she processes exactly what she sees.

The box sits in the bottom of her purse and her purse is stored away in the bottom drawer of her file cabinet. She's been at the office for 5 hours, fielding calls, rearranging Harvey's schedule, ignoring his whiny tone the 3 times that he's called her, and she still somehow hasn't peeked at whatever is stored away in that box. And, sure, she has wanted to take a look inside, just to see what she's really looking at, but she's been good and has kept her hands out of the goods.

She can only imagine what's hidden inside of that velvet. She's seen her fair share of engagement rings in all shapes and sizes. She's seen them with a lot of carets and not that many carets. She once saw a blood diamond. She's always said no when a man has come at her with one, except for the one time when she was too young to know what love truly was.

And, yes, she knows what love is with Harvey. It has taken years, sometimes painful years, for them to figure out where they fall on the scale. It took their feelings rearing their ugly head at the most inopportune time for them to actually do something about it. They had to hash it out in the ugliest of ways for them to get here, but they're here now and all of the dynamics have shifted back into place.

She feels like she's loved him in the best of ways and the worst of ways – sometimes too much and sometimes not enough, sometimes at the wrong times and sometimes at the right times. She doesn't have to explain herself anymore, he knows her. He's always known her in a sense. He's known her favorite restaurant, her favorite alcoholic beverage, when she's working and when she's just pretending, and now he knows how she sleeps, where her dishes go in the cabinets and what books sit on her shelves.

Not much has changed between them, not really, not truthfully. He kisses her now, makes love to her now, admits that she was right back then, that they didn't have everything but now they do. She doesn't know what changed for him, what made him decide that his 'I love you' no longer means that he cares for her and means that he's in love with her.

Maybe it was the bravado he needed to realize she was who he had always been fighting for, that even when she fucks up so big he is willing to go down throwing punches and she's the only one he would do that for. If it were anyone else, he would leave them high and dry to fend for themselves, but for her he would go to war. She knows that now and maybe she had always known it on some levels, but things were complicated then.

They're still complicated at times with Jessica hardly being in the office anymore if at all and Louis trying to adjust to his new secretary. Louis sometimes looks at her with regret like maybe he went wrong somewhere and he hadn't. He'd done everything right as far as a boss was concerned, even sometimes doing a little too much as far as a boss was concerned. He brought her coffee every morning, provided her with lunch most days, but something hadn't felt right.

She didn't listen in on his conversations through the intercom. She didn't anticipate his needs because he was trying so hard to accommodate her. Louis was a mystery wrapped up in a blanket when he shouldn't have been. She had known him for years, had surprised him by how well she could read him. Eventually, Harvey started bringing her coffee right before lunch and catching her to drag into his office for a drink before she could leave for the day.

So now he loves her, or he's always loved her, she's not really sure where they stand on the past but she's sure about where they stand on their future. He takes her to lunch at least twice a week where they discuss things not related to work. He takes her to the theatre if she's mentioned a play she wants to see, he remembers these things now. He kisses while she's talking sometimes, but never at the office, but he wants to, she can tell. He takes her to dinner every Tuesday night and every Saturday night, but he cooks her dinner on Friday night when he's tired from the week while she returns the favor on Sunday nights. Admittedly they end up ordering in the office or sometimes she meets with friends while he stays late on Mondays and Wednesdays.

And though they've been dull at times, she likes it that way. She likes the way he dances with her for no reason, how he makes love to her when it feels right but also fucks her hard when that seems to be demanded. She likes that they are equal partners in and outside of the office. He sometimes tells her that he feels like he missed out on a life with her but that's just not true because he's always had her as a companion, as a confidant, as his loyal partner, every step of the way.

Even though they've had all of these things together, she isn't sure that she's ready to marry him – to call him her husband. Maybe they've been blindly committed to one another for 12 years, or maybe they haven't. Maybe they were an accident. Maybe they were a mistake. They've only been living together, on accident, she insists this to be true, for 3 months and it has been challenging. However, it's mostly because they overflow the small space of her apartment. That certainly doesn't help their bickering.

Sure, their bickering is mostly playful until it becomes elevated and a bit aggressive. One thing they've learned to do over the past year is push each other's buttons in all of the wrong ways to get all of the right results. They disagree on things but one thing they've always been able to do is trust each other. Their fights never last for long.

So as she stares longingly at the drawer, debating whether she should take a peek at the contents of the box, her phone rings on her desk to distract her. Of course it's him, like he's just caught her doing something she isn't supposed to be doing. So she answers it, pushing the thought aside.

She waits impatiently at a table for two in the corner of the restaurant, fingers tapping on the cherry oak top as her purse rests against the wall to her right. Her brother is late, which isn't surprising because he's always late, but Jonathan usually sends her a polite text informing her that he is running later than usual. In fact, she'd told him 8 when she hadn't even made reservations until 8:30 but when she'd arrived, he still wasn't waiting for her.

She was shown directly to her table, using Harvey's name to get her a reservation in the first place, and she's sure they won't question the name drop when she uses his card to pay for the meal. It's always been a blessing to have his name on one line and her name on the other, like he's always been there silently supporting her. And okay, that's maybe one more reason to accept his proposal because he's always had her back and he's always shown her that he cares, but since they've been together he's learned to shift the dynamics just a bit.

It's in this moment, the moment between when the hostess showed her to the table and the waitress delivers her drink, that she decides to take a look at what is inside of the black velvet box. Her curiosity has stuck with her all day, but every time she has come close to looking at it, something stops her. And the knowledge that her brother, who is pushing an hour late, could walk in amidst her indulging her curiosity does not stop her from finding the box at the bottom of her purse and popping it open.

Inside is a very elegant piece of silver with a brilliant diamond centered atop of the silver band. She counts the carets of the ring, absently noting that it is slightly overpriced for what she had hoped her sometimes frugal boyfriend would spend, but appreciates how bold he's being. She suspects, in part, that it's because he wants to stake his claim and make up for his hesitation.

Of course, just as she slides the ring onto her finger, perfectly sized for her like god he must have known, he must have been planning it for months, when Jonathan arrives. He smiles sheepishly as he peels off his jacket, his flannel shirt making him stand out in a place like this. She eyeballs him warily as he sits down, his black jeans almost posing for a nice pair of slacks as they collide with his gray suede shoes, and she lightly shakes her head.

"You didn't even try at all, did you?" She asks.

The black velvet box is still on the table and he lifts a thick eyebrow to challenge her as he hangs his jacket on the back of his chair across from her. He leans forward and kisses her on the cheek. "Don't put me under your scrutiny, Sis. I was hot, the tempo was burning and production levels were high. I have a show next week, one which I expect you to make an appearance."

"Have I ever missed a show?" She says, snapping the box shut and tossing it into her purse.

Jonathan leans forward then, clasping her hand and tugging it across the table. "What in god's name is this?"

"It's nothing," Donna replies, ripping her hand from his grasp. She waves her left hand in the air and presses her elbows on the table. "It's not even mine."

"That sounds like a blatant lie," Jonathan says, "Did that asshole propose to you?"

"For the last time, Jon, he's not," she stops short because, okay, yes, Harvey does seem like an asshole. He's even an asshole towards her on occasion, but at least she can snap him back into place when need be. "Okay, he's a little bit of an asshole but I love him."

"Where's a documentary team when you need one? I'm baring witness to a real life case of Stockholm Syndrome," Jonathan says, annoyed as he crosses his arms on the table and leans against them.

She huffs then, the breath vibrating against her lips in a tickle as she looks away from her little brother's gaze. "Don't be ridiculous. I could leave him any time I wanted."

"But you don't want to," he points out.

"Why would I want to?" She asks. She's reached a whole new level of confusion. Harvey has never been anything but nice to Jonathan. "Seriously, Jon, what's your problem with Harvey anyway?"

"First of all, he jerked you around for twelve years," Jonathan says.

"You're being unreasonable," she replies, taking a sip of her martini.

"Donna," he says, voice low and mouth set in a thin line, "Don't lie to me. He led you on all those years. You told me-"

"I didn't know, Jonathan. I didn't know and when I knew, I told him," she interrupts.

Jonathan shuts his mouth and stares at her for few minutes. She doesn't know what he thinks she told him. She doesn't want to know because what if he's right. If he's right then that means she waited 12 years intentionally for a man to love her. She's struggling to see herself as stronger than that.

She says, "He treats me right. I know you don't think so, but he takes care of me. He's always taken care of me. I don't know if I'm ready to be married to him, but all I wanted from you was your support just like I've always given you."

She watches his shoulders fall in resignation. She has always supported him through every decision he's ever made on his own. Since their parents nearly split up when he told them he was gay and they didn't support him in art school. She helped him pay half of his rent until he got his feet off the ground. She's done everything she could.

"You're right," he says, "I just don't want to see him hurt you anymore. I know you think you didn't know how you felt about him, but how you felt about him was toxic for you. You alienated everyone who cared about you outside of your work and your family, and I just don't want that to happen to you again. Especially if he gets what he wants from you and changes his mind about your relationship."

"Jonathan," she says slowly, reaching forward to wrap her hand around his forearm. The engagement ring she isn't supposed to be wearing yet catches a reflection from the light above the table. She offers him a small smile in an attempt to assure him of her words yet to come. "You don't have to like him, but you have to understand that I love him, that he loves me. What we had was unconventional for a long time, but it isn't like that anymore. I know he loves me and because he loves me, he needs me. He's kind, supportive, loving and loyal, sometimes stubborn, frustrating and challenging, but we always choose each other. You've never really known him as my significant other and I think that if you just gave him a chance, you would change your mind about him."

Jonathan drops his gaze to where her hand is circled around his arm. He slowly raises his arm and slides it beneath her touch, situating his palm to press against hers. Her little brother holds her hand lightly, his fingers pressing against the ring that her finger isn't quite accustomed to, and he looks at her again. He gives her a small nod then.

"Good, I'll bring him to your show next week," she says with a grin. She pulls her hand back and watches her brother's eyes widen as he processes her announcement.

Jonathan's mouth drops open and he struggles to form sentences. He finally recovers and says, "I thought you said he hated all art forms."

"I know," she says, stirring her drink by the straw, "It'll be fun to watch him squirm under all that pressure."

"You're a wicked woman," Jonathan says, matching her grin movement for movement.

"That's what they tell me."

Fourteen months ago she was casually dating. More specifically, she was casually dating a man named Thomas who was ideally everything she should have been looking for. Thomas was smart and relatively funny, enjoyed theatre more than sports, was divorced and had two children – one 11 and the other one 8 – in case she had wanted to be a mother after all. He was giving and loving without any reservations of telling her how he feels about her. He called her wonderful within days of meeting her, not 12 years after meeting her.

Though she had known him in passing for years, they had never had a meaningful conversation beyond anything that was work related. When she had finally decided to open herself to the possibility of dating, she had approached him and his tall, good-looking demeanor had faltered only for a moment. Of course, Harvey, her friend, no longer her boss, no longer the man with whom her loyalty lied, hadn't be happy to hear this development.

He looked at her and stated, honesty and emotions resting on his sleeve, that he didn't like her dating other men. For a moment, she hesitated in asking him why debating if why really mattered, if she even wanted to know why, if she wanted to regress to the Donna she had decided not to be anymore. The Donna she was trying to be was moving on and the old Harvey she knew, the one she trusted for over a decade, would have never said that he didn't like her dating other men. No, that Harvey would have bit his lip and told her to have a good night.

But the Harvey who was no longer her boss, the one who caught her for drinks before she could leave, did not hold back quite the same way. He had asked her to have drinks with him instead, maybe even dinner. So she asked him why again, she asked him why without hesitation, determined to press him until he either refused to answer or didn't have one. It was the uncertainty that had caused her to hang around for so long. He had answered. That was the key and his answer was almost irrelevant.

So on this night, the night that followed the day she discovers there is a ring, she considers the contrasts of what there relationship was in comparison to what it is now.

He tells her that he loves her. His words aren't meant to be a form of comfort or to pity her, but they are meant to be an expression of his emotions that he'd had such difficulty putting a name to. On occasion he admits that he sometimes feels like love isn't the right word, says that he doesn't feel it's enough. Thought it isn't often, it is meaningful because she loves a man who only says what he means. His openness with her about his feelings makes her feel valued, special, because he rarely shows others the measure in which he cares for them.

It's when she speaks to him that night and he tells her that he misses her that she decides she'll give it just one day to decide if the ring actually belongs on her finger or not.

Mike hesitates at her desk for a second too long, pointing at Harvey's empty office in confusion, as he says, "Is he not in?"

"Does he look like he's in?" She asks, sliding her gaze from the computer to the Senior Associate standing at her cubicle. She slowly smiles at his perplexed look and sits up straighter. "Don't you have your own secretary now?"

"She's busy at the moment," Mike replies, "I no longer question her lunch decisions."

"He's not back from D.C. yet," she says, "Last time I talked to him, he still didn't know when he would be back."

"Okay," Mike says with a small nod, "Just thought I would leave this on his desk then."

Donna motions to Harvey's office and Mike turns to follow the motion. Just as he crosses the threshold to Harvey's office, a thought occurs to Donna and she quickly follows him. She could ask Mike, as him if Harvey's going to propose, ask him what happened between him and Rachel after they became engaged that just didn't work anymore.

She closes the door behind her, trapping Mike in Harvey's office. He turns after setting the files on Harvey's desk and looks at Donna bewildered. His lips part in silent question, one that does not meet his lips, but his eyebrows knit together as he lightly shakes his head. She steps forward and he buries his hands into his pockets.

"Can I ask you a personal question, Mike?" She asks timidly.

"Of course," Mike replies. His tone and facial expression suggests that it's a stupid question, like she shouldn't even have to ask after 3 years of knowing one another.

She takes a breath to steady herself and she bites the bullet. "What went wrong with you and Rachel?"

"It was the wrong time for us. She was busy with school and we were vying for the same position. We couldn't find a leg to stand on," he explains, "We just couldn't make it after everything we went through. If this is about Rachel, tell her I'm sorry for everything."

"No," Donna says, "It's not about Rachel. This is about Harvey."

"Harvey?" Mike echoes, taking a step towards her. "What does Harvey have to do with any of this?" His eyes skate over her form giving her the once over. She knows he's comprehended when his eyes widen. "Did he propose to you?"

"So you didn't know about the engagement ring he had hidden in his pocket?" She asks slowly.

He lightly shakes his head. He grabs her hand to get a better look at the ring. "I had no idea. He proposed?"

"Well, not exactly," she admits.

"If you think getting engaged will ruin you guys then you need to understand that you're not me and Rachel. You're different. You're Harvey and Donna. Sure, you had that rough patch, but you powered through and you're stronger than ever. Don't compare yourself to anyone else," Mike reassures. He offers her a small smile and leans back against the desk. "Besides, you two know each other better than anyone else I've ever known. Rachel and I didn't trust each other, not like you and Harvey do. You two can make it through anything, you are happy together."

She swallows. She asks, "What if we aren't supposed to be together?"

"I have never seen two people more right for each other," Mike admits, "Trust your heart like you trust him."

"The ring is beautiful," she reasons.

Mike leans forward then and lightly kisses her on the cheek. He pulls back to move out of the room, but he hesitates at the door. He says, "It's about more than a ring. He's different with you. We all know it."

Donna feels like she's been caught red handed when Harvey saunters into the bedroom a little after 9. The sun has set and she has the window open to get the breeze, the smell from the restaurant down the street wafting into the apartment and engulfing her. He looks just as exhausted as she feels. She stiffens, the weight on her hand making her limbs feel unbalanced as her finger slowly becomes accustomed to the diamond on her finger.

He drops his bag on the floor just inside of the doorway and makes his way over to her where she rests beneath the sheets, dressed in one of his button downs that she knows she isn't supposed to be wearing because, as he would say, she'll wrinkle it. She couldn't help herself when she'd see it in the closet, one of his more casual tops, missing the warmth of him and his presence. Yet he says nothing on the matter, just lightly touches her forearm as he mutters a greeting and crawls onto the bed slightly on top of her.

He lightly kisses her thigh, her knees pulled close to her chest, like he's too tired to inhibit the strength to lean up and kiss her. Even though she's on the side of the bed where he usually sleeps, he lays dangerously close to his side, definitely sprawled across the middle. Her left hand finds his hair, fingers dragging through the light brown, slightly grey soft follicles, and he kicks his shoes off.

He breaks the ice as she finds the remote to the television on the night stand, turning the volume of The Real Housewives of Orange County down. He says, "So, I found Troy in a bar late last night. He's in some serious trouble with the FBI. He did some awful shit using his credentials in the White House."

"That's not good."

"I got him home and sobered up."

"What can you do?"

He reaches up for her hand to stop her movement. She knows that puts him to sleep and his exhaustion is even more threatening. He pulls her hand to his mouth and presses a kiss against her fingers. She watches his eyes narrow on her hand, his gaze settled on the incriminating feature that isn't supposed to be there.

"There isn't anything else I can do about Troy, but you -," he says, pausing as he lifts his chin towards her to match her stare, "Do you have some news for me? It seems like I missed a lot while I was gone."

"I've given it a lot of thought," she starts, her hand twisting in his, "And my answer is yes."

"I didn't ask a question," he points out.

"I would like to marry you," she replies. He looks at her, amused, and sits up straighter as he leans against the headboard. She lightly shakes her head, looking away from him. "I would do anything for you. I've been committed to you for a long time and I think we should make the commitment a legal one, you know, so we don't have to testify in court against each other."

"Donna, you're the most wonderful woman I've ever met and I couldn't see myself being married to anyone other than you, but if you aren't ready then you don't have to say you want to marry me. I didn't ask you because I know you're not ready," he replies.

"You were gone and the whole time all I could think about is how something didn't feel right with you gone. Nothing ever feels right when you're not by my side. I know that sounds stupid but we've been together a really long time," she admits, "And I didn't have to just deal with that at work. I had to deal with it at home, too. The bed was cold and the weight of the mattress didn't sit well and my bones ached because I had to sleep differently than usual. I'm just used to you."

"So you want to marry me because I'm familiar?" He asks, "Because you weren't comfortable enough to sleep without me?"

"Shut up you idiot," she says with a light slap to his chest, "I want to marry you because I am in love with you, Harvey."

"You don't trust me with your heart, not after I was such a fool that I couldn't even see what was right in front of me," Harvey says then. He looks at her then, leaning towards her and bumping his shoulder against hers. He tries to get her attention, tries to comfort her gently, she knows this, knows his habits and his reasons. The part of him she didn't know before, she knows now. "I don't blame you, Donna. I'm trying so hard to show you how much I love you, how much I'm willing to do for you, but I don't want you to ever think it's not about the way I feel about you. You're my past, my present, and my future. You mean everything to me. I want everything with you."

Her vision blurs as the lines to define his frame cease to exist and she blinks to keep the tears at bay. It takes a few times before a hot tear slides down her cheek. Her boyfriend, her boss, her best friend, the man who has her heart and body and soul, reaches to wipe the tear away, the liquid making it to her chin before he can get to it. Her cheek settles into his palm, his thumb absently sweeping over her cheekbone.

She laughs at herself, at how ridiculous she is to be crying just because the man she's known for 12 years told her how he feels about her like it's the very first time. She lifts her hands then and cradles his face, leaning down to lightly press her lips against his. A slight smile meets his mouth like he's trying to omit his confusion at her actions.

She says, "That sure as hell sounds like a proposal to me."

"You didn't even tell me how you feel about the ring," he replies.

She lifts her hand in front of her face and takes another long look. "One of the better engagement rings I've seen."

"Take it off," he says, mouth settling into a thin line as the amusement fades from his features, "I'll go get you a better one tomorrow."

"I think I'd like to try this one for a while," she admits.

He laughs then. "So like a trial run? You want a trial engagement to see if you would like to get married?"

"Don't be an asshole," she replies.

"I love you," he says, rolling onto his side to face her.

She turns off the television and the light on the nightstand before she slides down the bed. Tucking her head beneath his chin, she wraps her arms around his waist and takes in a deep breath. It was only two days, but she sure did miss the smell of him.