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It started like most things involving Mike Ross, innocently enough and with good intentions but likely leading to ruin and disaster. It continued like most things involving Harvey Specter, powerful and fascinating but complicated and potentially destructive.
At first there were the looks they shared, a secret language only they knew that made people around them raise their eyebrows and wonder what they’d missed. Then there were the casual touches, here and there, a hand brushing an elbow, shoulders accidentally bumping, never long enough to be noticed but just a tiny bit more frequent than you'd expect in such an uptight environment. They pushed and pulled at the boundaries of personal space, never really touching but close enough that they rarely had to raise their voices, sentences half wispered and thoughts barely completed in ones mind before the other was finishing them.
Their fights were made of dark frowns and slow, cutting words followed by heavy silence filled with the unspoken, itching on the tips of their tongues but never escaping their lips. Somehow they moved past it, every day, every time.
I'm sorry.
I need you to trust me.
You were right.
It's okay.
A half smile. Warm eyes. A deep sigh.
Donna didn't understand how two people so perfectly in tune with each other could be so completely and utterly oblivious.