Immunity

Category: Angst/Romance

Pairing: Darvey

Summary: Everyone is out with the flu except Harvey who has his hands full with cases and Donna (literally) when she faints in his office.

Warnings: None.

Disclaimer: Own nadda!

Authors Notes: Set somewhere in season 8, no spoilers :)

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Her eyelids flutter open and she blinks once, twice, registering the feel of Harvey's leather bound sofa beneath her aching body. It takes her a second to realise he's knelt on the floor, hand pressed over his knee to support the position, and she swallows dryly as his stern look swims into focus. She has no idea how she ended up flat on her back or why he's glaring but presses her temple to try and ease the throbbing. The movement is a mistake compounding the situation and she grimaces lowering her arm as he exhales a slow breath resonating with what could be either relief or frustration, she isn't exactly sure. "What happened?"

"You fainted." He reveals flatly, his gaze hard as it trails over her washed out skin. She's only been down a few minutes but it still scared the shit out him and his thumb jerks to her wrist checking her pulse for the umpteenth time. It's still beating steady and strong, a steeling comfort, and he releases his grip finding her confused gaze with a steady calm to his voice, "how do you feel?"

"Like someone put rocks in my head." She angles toward him wincing at the disapproval contorting his features, the reaction unwittingly stirring a vague memory of his incessant plight to send her home and her instance she was fine. She had been right up until she wasn't and a flood of embarrassment rushes her cheeks. It was a momentary lapse, that's all, and with Louis out and down for the count as well he needs her here.

"I did not faint," she decides resolutely, attempting to sit up but the move awards the room its own momentum and she reluctantly gives in to the weighted pressure of his hand guiding her back down.

"No?" There's an edge to his tone, concern weakening the control he's holding onto, "what would you call it then?"

She ignores the insipid ringing in her ear, finding the energy to smirk at him, "a bet. Gretchen didn't think you'd catch me."

His eyes widen slightly, almost inclined to believe her, but Emmy winning performances aside even she couldn't pull off a dead faint with such fluid ease. One minute she was standing and the next she was out cold lading solidly against his chest. The bruise on his shoulder is proof it wasn't staged and frustration from their earlier disagreement creeps back into his voice, "Gretchen went home sick an hour ago and trust me I know you wouldn't go to all this effort without an audience."

The smugness in her expression quickly fades and a tired ache rolls through her body from the exertion of trying to manipulate him. She's not exactly at the peak of her game and tries the only other thing she knows might work on him; the truth.

"Harvey," she uses reasoning to press her point, "you're swamped without Louis. I've been pulling all your financials remember? You need me here."

"I don't care." He bites back, offended she's assuming he'll roll over easily. It should be a given that he's always going to put her well-being above clients and the fact it isn't lands a knot squarely in his chest. Has he really been that much of ass over the years that she wouldn't expect him to?

The question stings and he rocks on his heels watching as she uses the back of the couch to lift herself up. She's in no condition to be working and right now there isn't any room for his self-contempt. He can stew on it later and breaks his expression with soft determination, "you're what's important to me Donna, not cases or doing Louis' financials and if you want to help then go home because I guarantee you I'm not going to get anything done sitting around here worrying about you all afternoon."

There's a condescending weight to his words that she's sure isn't intentional but it still hits a nerve. He's treating her as if she's a liability, somebody who needs mollycoddling and it's bullshit. They both know he's going to be screwed the second she walks out but if he wants someone to play the hero in shining whatever act with it's not going to be her. "You know what Mr. I-can-do-this-all-by-myself, you just go right ahead but if you start to tank don't even think about calling me."

The sudden outburst catches him by surprise and his body jerks up in time with her angry movement, anticipating the mistake of rushing to stand. He's right. Her knees buckle almost immediately and he hooks an arm around her waist using the momentum to keep her from falling. Miraculously the bruise on his shoulder doesn't take a second hit. Instead her palm nurses his chest, steadying herself, and he swallows the fear and panic swelling in his throat.

He isn't in the habit of flaunting his emotions but if that's what it's going to take to get her to listen his pride's just going to have to wear the blow. "You want me to say it? Of course I need you Donna, that isn't even a question but in case it's somehow escaped your notice I'm worried about you. So if you could stop scaring the shit out of me for five minutes that would be greatly appreciated."

If it weren't for the embarrassment flushing her cheeks she'd almost be tempted to laugh at the fluster drawing his brows together but the fast beat beneath her fingertips sobers up any residual amusement. She really is scaring him and suddenly willing to let her dignity take a backseat to the genuine concern.

"Ok," she exhales slowly, glancing up from beneath her lashes, "I'll go home but on two conditions."

His releases his grip slightly, enough to look at her, but doesn't completely let go. "I'm listening."

"You let me take the Roselleni case to work on." It's the first non-negotiable on the list and her hand absently taps his chest trying to distract from the smell of Armani cologne invading her senses. It eases the pressure thudding behind her temples but does nothing for the butterflies swirling in her stomach and she quickly advances on the next compromise, "you call Louis, admit you need one of his associates to help with the financials and when you finish at nine, not a minute past, you bring me Thai food for dinner."

The propositions are bold but he doesn't lament on the details just the fact that if he's going to bend to her demands she better damn well appreciate it. "So we're clear that was five things." As expected her gaze doesn't waver but it does soften showing she's at least appreciative of the sacrifice he's making by not countering the negotiation, "and I'm picking the Thai place."

She feels a hint of disappointment as his fingers slide from the curve of her dress, his form retreating to gather the Roselleni file sat open on his desk.

There's a silent hum to the air as she watches him stop and pause, an unusual stillness to his shoulders as he stands deep in thought before shaking it off, returning to her with the hint of a smirk quirking his lips. It tightens her chest, like she's forgotten an appointment or missed a birthday, and she forces a smile over the top of the reaction as she reaches for the brief. He doesn't hand it over pulling it back just shy of her reach and the feeling intensifies as she tries for it again.

"One thing first." He waves the folder aside stepping into her space with a determined prowess. Maybe it's the adrenaline crashing or an overshoot of fear bolstering his confidence but his thumb extends to her flushed jawline, his mouth pressing to her lips languidly tasting a hint of cherries and spice. Screw shouldn't, he is and the kiss is long overdue, Mike's words about not sleeping with her at the wedding rushing back to him. He doesn't want to take it to that level just yet, not while she's sick and definitely not in his office but the desire is there in his eyes as he draws back from her. "Rosellini is all yours." He hands the brief over in place of an explanation, his smirk broadening as she gapes speechlessly at him.

Harvey Specter: 1

Donna: 0

A mixture of shock and confusion resonates across her face as he ghosts back to his chair and she fights another rush of lightheartedness that has nothing to do with the flu. He can't just kiss her and walk away even if he is the best closer in New York City. "What was the hell was that?"

He shrugs, a look of indifference masking his amusement. "Building up my immunity for dinner, nine forty-five?"

The smugness doesn't falter irritating her further but she doesn't need a plethora of ways to wipe the arrogance from his expression. As it turns out, all she needs is one. "Thirty-five-" she corrects, pulling the folder to her chest with a purposeful tap, "oh and Harvey?"

She waits for him to glance up signaling her lips like she's a cat who just stole the cream. "I asked you to bring round food, I didn't mention anything about inviting you in."

His mouth parts to the sound of the silence and any retort he was going to make falls flat as she pulls together a confident strut out of his office. God help him if he doesn't actually smile at the unprecedented loss. After all he got to floor her with that kiss and he wants them on an even playing field, otherwise where would the fun be?

A heavy vibration diverts his attention to the phone lit up on his desk and the smile instantly plummets from his face.

Donna says you need me? - Louis.

He swears out loud at the ridiculous speed with which she operates, coming down another notch as he unenthusiastically composes and sends a response back. She's good but then again so is he and his thumb swipes through the list of contacts stopping when he gets to her mother.

It's devious and should would kill him but-

Another buzz.

Funny. She said you couldn't handle it. Will just have to try and drag myself in tomorrow. - Louis

Any misgivings he has about dialing her mother immediately vanish as he places the call.

Donna is going to kill him but not before her mother shows up and definitely not before he kills Louis first.

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