✧₊˚౨ৎ i wrote another stoned clingy harvey fic... 🤍 needed him as a vulnerable little mess of a husband asking, "do you love me?" every five seconds.
You don't look up from your phone when you hear the apartment door open, but you do smile. Harvey's home earlier than expected, it's barely nine on a Friday night, which means drinks with Mike must have wrapped up fast.
"Hey," he calls out, his voice just a touch too casual.
Harvey Specter doesn't do casual. Harvey Specter does calculated, controlled, and devastatingly precise. But right now, he's standing in the doorway to the living room with his hands in his pockets, tie loosened, and an expression that's trying very hard to look normal.
"Hey yourself," you say slowly, dog-earing your page. "You're home early."
"Mike had to get back to Rachel." He crosses to the bar cart, movements just slightly more deliberate than usual. "Wanted a drink anyway. You want one?"
"I'm good." You watch him pour a scotch with the focused concentration of a man defusing a bomb. "How was your night?"
"Fine. Good. Mike's...Mike's good." He takes a sip, then another. Then he turns to face you, and there's something in his eyes that makes you bite back a smile.
The pause is infinitesimal, but it's there. Then that million-dollar smile slides into place. "Define high."
"Oh my God." You laugh, setting your phone aside. "You smoked with Mike?"
"Mike had...there was a thing. A joint. I had some." He waves his hand vaguely. "It's legal now."
"I know it's legal. I'm just trying to picture you and Mike passing a joint back and forth like college kids."
"We're very mature about our recreational drug use," Harvey says with dignity, then ruins it by missing the coffee table when he tries to set his glass down. He catches it before it falls, but you're already grinning.
"Oh, this is going to be fun."
"I'm fine." He sits down next to you, closer than he normally would, you notice. Harvey's not big on casual touching. He shows affection through actions, through protection, through the way he remembers how you take your coffee. Physical proximity is something he has to work up to, even after two years of marriage.
But right now, he's pressed against your side like a cat seeking warmth.
"Uh huh." You pick up your phone again, mostly to see what he'll do.
What he does is make a small, disgruntled sound.
"Are you really going to keep scrolling?"
"Depends... what are you offering?"
You glance at him. He's looking at you with an expression you've never seen before, something open and almost uncertain. "Yes, you are. Do you need something?"
"No." Pause. "Are you mad I got high?"
"I don't know. You seem mad."
"I'm on TikTok, Harvey. That's not the same as being mad."
This time you set the book down completely and turn to face him. "I'm not ignoring you. You're sitting right here. We're talking."
"But you were scrolling."
He shifts closer, and now he's definitely in your space, his thigh pressed against yours, his arm along the back of the couch behind you. "Do you love me?"
"Do you love me?" He's looking at you with those intense brown eyes, but there's something vulnerable in them that makes your heart squeeze.
"Of course I love you. Harvey, are you okay?"
"I'm fine. I just... "He reaches out and takes your hand, threading his fingers through yours. His palm is warm, slightly damp. "I wanted to make sure."
"That you love me." He says it simply, like it's the most reasonable question in the world.
Oh. Oh, this is going to be interesting.
"Harvey." You squeeze his hand. "I married you. I love you."
"But like, right now? You love me right now?"
You can't help it, you laugh. "Yes, still. It's been five seconds."
"Okay." He nods, seemingly satisfied, then immediately asks, "But why?"
"Why do you love me?" He's studying your face like he's cross-examining a witness. "I'm not...I'm not good at this. The relationship thing. I don't know how to do the emotional stuff. I work too much. I'm not—" He gestures vaguely at himself. "I'm not easy."
Your amusement fades into something softer. "No, you're not easy."
His face falls, and you realize your mistake immediately.
"But I don't want easy," you continue quickly, cupping his face with your free hand. "I want you. The brilliant, complicated, emotionally unavailable you."
"I'm not emotionally unavailable."
"Harvey, last week I asked you how you were feeling and you said 'efficiently.'"
"That's..." He stops. "Okay, that's fair." Then, quieter: "You really want me?"
"Yes, you idiot. I really want you."
He leans into your touch, actually nuzzles into your palm like he's trying to crawl inside your affection. "Promise?"
"Because I don't..." He swallows hard. "I don't know what I'd do if you left. You're the only..." He stops, looking frustrated with himself. "I'm not saying this right."
"No, I'm not. I'm never...I can't..." He makes an aggravated sound. "In court, I always know what to say. Every word is perfect. But with you, I don't know how to tell you that you're the only thing I have that actually matters. The firm, the cases, the winning, it's all just noise. You're the only real thing."
Your throat tightens. "Harvey."
"I'm terrified," he admits, the words tumbling out now like a dam has broken. "All the time. That I'm going to fuck this up. That you're going to wake up one day and realize you married someone who doesn't know how to be a person, let alone a husband. That I'm going to lose you because I don't know how to...how to—"
You kiss him, cutting off the spiral of anxiety. He makes a small, desperate sound and kisses you back, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head like he's afraid you'll pull away.
When you finally break apart, his eyes are a little glassy.
"You're not going to lose me," you tell him firmly. "Yes, you're emotionally stunted. Yes, you work too much. Yes, you show affection by threatening people who are rude to me instead of just saying 'I love you' like a normal person."
"You said it on our wedding day and then not again for six months."
"I know you do." You stroke your thumb across his cheekbone. "And I love that about you. I love all of it. Even the parts that drive me crazy."
He's quiet for a moment, processing. Then: "Can we go to bed?"
"I don't want to sleep. I just want..." He stands up, pulling you with him. "I need to be close to you. Please?"
The please does you in. Harvey Specter doesn't say please. Harvey Specter doesn't ask for things, he takes them, earns them, demands them. But right now, he's looking at you like you're the only solid thing in a tilting world.
"Okay," you say softly. "Let's go to bed."
He practically drags you to the bedroom, his hand tight around yours. Once you're there, he pulls you down onto the mattress and immediately wraps himself around you, face buried in your neck.
"Harvey, I need to change."
"I'm wearing a corset dress."
"Don't give a shit." His arms tighten. "Just stay."
You sigh and settle in, running your fingers through his hair. He makes a sound of contentment that's almost a purr.
"This is nice," he mumbles against your skin. "Why don't we do this more?"
"Because you're usually working until midnight and then you come to bed and pass out."
"That's stupid. This is better." He presses a kiss to your neck, then another. "You're so soft. And you smell good. Have I told you that you smell good?"
"You smell really good. Like—like—" He inhales deeply. "Like vanilla and sugar."
Your heart softens completely. "You're very sweet when you're high."
"You threatened to destroy opposing counsel's career yesterday because he called me 'honey.'"
"That's sweet. I was defending your honor."
"He shouldn't have been condescending to my wife." Harvey pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression serious despite the glassiness in his eyes. "You know I'd do anything for you, right? Anything. If someone hurt you, I'd—"
"I know." You kiss his forehead. "My fierce protector."
"Damn right." He settles back against you, one hand sliding beneath the fabric of your dress. Not sexual, just touching. "Is this okay?"
"Good. Because I need...I need to touch you. To know you're real." His thumb strokes your skin. "Sometimes I think I dreamed you. That I'm going to wake up and still be alone in that empty apartment, married to my career, and you'll have been just...just something I wanted so badly I imagined you."
"I'm real," you whisper. "I'm right here."
"Promise you'll stay." His voice cracks slightly. "Promise you won't leave me when I'm back to normal tomorrow and being emotionally constipated again."
"Even when I forget to tell you I love you?"
"Even then. Though you could work on that."
"I love you," he says immediately. "I love you so much it scares me. I love you so much I don't know what to do with it. It's like...it's like having a closing argument but all the words are feelings and I don't know how to organize them."
You laugh softly, still playing with his hair. "That might be the most Harvey Specter thing you've ever said."
"I'm serious." He props himself up on one elbow, looking down at you with startling intensity. "You're everything. You're the verdict I didn't know I was waiting for. The case I didn't know I needed to win. The—"
"Okay, we need to retire the legal metaphors."
"But they're good metaphors."
"They're very you." You pull him back down. "Now stop talking and just be here with me."
"I can do that." He settles against you again, his breathing starting to even out. "This is nice. Being close. We should do this every night."
"I'm going to be so embarrassed tomorrow," he mumbles.
"Are you going to tell anyone about this?"
"Oh, absolutely. Mike needs to know what he's created."
Harvey groans. "He's never going to let me live this down."
"Nope." You kiss the top of his head. "But it's worth it. I like clingy Harvey."
"There's no such thing as clingy Harvey."
He's quiet for a moment, then: "Do you still love me?"
You smile into the darkness. "Yes. Still. Always."
"Good," he whispers, and finally, finally relaxes completely against you. "That's good."
Within minutes, he's asleep, dead weight in your arms, his face peaceful in a way it never is when he's awake and armored.
You hold him close and think that maybe, just maybe, you should encourage Mike to share his recreational activities with Harvey more often.
When you can handle the clinginess.
UGH I love him so much ♡ I don't think any of you understand
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