A/N: For lovely Elle, who talked me out of my deep deep Darvey depression and kinda made me go the complete opposite way. I hope it brightens up this downer of a hiatus, if nothing else.
Thank you to Blue for her invaluable beta.
I hope you like it. :)
so show me family
all the blood that i would bleed
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I.
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Kim Johnson's wedding reception is in full swing and Harvey is sans plus one, standing at the edges of the lavish party, not even pretending like he's having fun because he is not. Fred Johnson is one of their oldest clients, both in age and in legal service. The bride is his granddaughter Kimberly, also a client, which meant one of the named partners had to go. They decided to settle it like gentlemen and Harvey pulled the short straw and now here he is. Not having fun.
Thanking the waiter for the much needed drink, he scans the room and nods at a few familiar faces, trying hard not to look for one familiar face in particular. Fails miserably, as usual. He knows Donna should be making an appearance tonight. They have several named partners now, but there's only one COO, after all. Tugging on the sleeve of his tux, he gulps his drink and tries not to be nervous. There's nothing to be nervous about, after all. He's pretty sure she's coming stag, too.
He's pretty sure because Louis is a big fat gossip and he told him last week that Donna broke up with Kessler. He almost wishes he didn't, because he's been on edge ever since, waiting for her to come to him. It's been ten days now that she's disappointed.
Harvey has a pretty decent idea about the why behind her break up. He kissed her in his office on a Friday. According to Louis, by Monday they were through. On Wednesday, he saw Kessler through the conference room glass, signing some papers, and Harvey would have bet all his balls the man wanted to punch his lights out, which he probably deserved. Harvey felt almost disappointed when Kessler looked down to sign his name. He let Joe get a few extra punches that afternoon in the ring. His jaw ached for days. He skipped the painkillers.
So, yeah. Either it's all a big coincidence, which it isn't, or things between him and Donna are about to come to a head. He's dreading it. He cannot fucking wait.
Getting another drink, he thinks about that Friday in his office. He was still reeling from his semi-annual lecture from Scottie, dishing out instead of putting out like he'd hoped, except she wasn't going to play second fiddle to anyone, least of all to Donna Paulsen. He stood there and took it because he kept being a grade A jackass to her and this was his way of paying penance.
And then she left and Donna was there, dressed for a Friday night with someone else and it hit him, just how definitely he was losing her. It had been happening so steadily for so long, he somehow almost missed it. And he might not lose her to Kessler - though that was starting to look more likely by the day - but he would lose her all the same.
He wanted to tell her, but talking always got them in an even bigger mess and so he rounded his desk instead, his palm cupping her cheek as he pressed his lips to hers. It was undemanding as his mouth moved softly against hers. He felt her breath hitch, felt her own lips relax under his as they parted, only slightly yet more than enough for him to know she definitely felt that.
Pulling back, he searched for the right words. "I know you're seeing Kessler, Donna, but," he stared the rest of that sentence into her.
"But you needed to know?"
He shook his head. "I needed you to know." He stood up straighter, "And now you do."
She stared at him, deer-like, "Know what?"
"This," he motioned between them. "Isn't going away, Donna. Not for me."
Blinking at him, she whispered, "What are you saying, Harvey?"
"I want this." He clenched his jaw, taking a deep breath. "I want us, to," he didn't know how to finish that, either.
"To what? Do you even know?"
He did know, he just really sucked at telling her.
Donna nodded but he had a terrible feeling she wasn't agreeing with him. She left and he watched her go and that, at least, was nothing new. But then Louis told him her and Kessler were over, and he didn't know what to think. He didn't mean to leave it that ambiguous, but he didn't know how to ask her either. She was so much better at that and she knew where to find him.
He wishes she would.
Moving along the room and away from one particular bore, he finally spots her. She's just finishing a conversation with an elderly woman he vaguely recognizes from somewhere. Donna rests her hand on the other woman's shoulder and says something that makes her laugh, and then she's alone. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she turns and sees him, and her face is no longer the carefree ease it was a moment ago. She gives him a nod of acknowledgement, grabs a drink from a floating tray, disappears into the crowd. He catches a sight of her a few moments later, on the other end of the room and out onto the balcony.
So this is where they're going to have this conversation. Nodding to himself, he finishes his drink and sets it on the table, following her out.
"Hey," he comes to stand beside her. "Mind if I join you?"
She looks at him pointedly, and yeah. That was lame. He sees if he can top it. "Are you here alone?"
Leaning her forearms on top of the rail, she looks down into her drink, "Just me."
He's not really sure how to play this so he plays dumb. "Where's Kessler?"
"It wasn't going to work out." She shoots him a sideways glance, "But you already knew that." He runs his tongue along the backs of his teeth, nodding. She nods back, averting her eyes to the city skyline, "What about you?"
"What about me?"
"No Scottie?"
Right. She knows about that, too. "It wasn't going to work out," he mimics her in words and posture, his arms resting on the marble as he stares out into the night. "Again."
"Why not?" And she sounds resigned and curious at the same time.
He looks at her, annoyed at the twenty questions. "You know why."
Donna stares blankly at him, looking annoyed herself. Annoyed and, something else. Something akin to unsure and he wonders if she does in fact know as much as he gives her credit for. Dismisses it because how the hell could she not when everyone else seems to. Random clients and new partners and ex-girlfriends he rarely ever sees.
"You kissed me," she states, as if he could forget.
"I did," he stands up straight, observing her profile.
Her eyes drop to her glass, and she's silent for awhile and he can see by the crease in her brow she's thinking. He wishes he had a drink, something to do with his hands. He stretches his fingers by his side. Finally, she says slowly, "Do you think we'll ever make it work with anyone else?" Her tone is such he's not sure if she's asking or simply posing a hypothetical.
"I don't know," he answers anyway. "Doesn't seem likely."
She huffs, nodding.
He taps his thigh, taps it again, then reaches for her, capturing her elbow between his fingers. She pushes off, turning around to face him. His hand trails down her forearm and over her hand. He sees her lips part on a breath as he rounds his fingers until the tips are skimming her wrist, his thumb pressing into her pulse point, rubbing gentle circles into her skin. "Why did you end it with Kessler?"
She rolls her eyes in annoyance. "You kissed me, Harvey." Pulling her hand away, she turns it palm up, "What was I supposed to do?"
"Is that it," he asks evenly.
"Is that it?" She sounds incredulous. "Given your views on infidelity, I'm surprised you're asking that question."
"You two were hardly serious."
"We were serious enough."
"So were me and Paula." And it's a risk, bringing that up, but he feels maybe he needs to. They never did talk about that kiss, and he finds he has a lot to say on the matter.
"That was different," she shakes her head, her voice dropping. "That wasn't you."
"The hell it wasn't, Donna," his lips purse in irritation. "I kissed you back, when I should have pushed you away."
Shaking her head, she argues, "It was a reflex, Ha–"
"Damn right it was," he agrees because it only proves his goddamn point. "What happened with my mom," he bites down, swallows. "I would have pushed you away. If you were anyone else, I would have pushed you away." Reaching for her wrist again, he takes a step closer. "If you were anyone else, I wouldn't have kissed you the other night, either. No matter how casual you were with him." His eyes are steady on her face when he states, "But you're you."
"What does that mean?" she whispers, her eyes flicking between his.
"It means," he swallows, his hand on her hip, "I don't want to do this with anyone else. Not anymore. Not when I'm just biding my time. Scottie was right," and her eyebrows raise at that, but it doesn't deter him. "I'm always going to fail at relationships because none of them are ever going to be you."
Donna's brow pinches, "She said that?"
"She did."
"That's," she looks past him as she searches for the right word. "Insightful."
"Yeah, well. She's been in therapy for awhile now." Donna makes a face and opens her mouth to say something, but he has a pretty good guess what that is so he beats her to it, "Don't. I know." He rubs his free hand, the one that's not idly tracing her skin, over his face. "I've been seeing Lipschitz."
That surprises her and it strikes him just how distant they've been while playing friends. "Louis' therapist?"
"The very same one," he confirms. "We now share both a therapist and a dentist. He's probably moving his medical records to my physician as we speak."
That earns him a smile. Good.
"How's that going?"
"It's," he thinks about it. "Enlightening. He was pretty pleased with me kissing you, actually. Called it a breakthrough."
"A breakthrough."
Reaching for her glass, he sets it on the rail. "Yeah." He doesn't want to stall anymore and he knows what he really wants to do with his hands. Pulling her in, his palm settles on her back, while his left hand grasps her right one, tucking it against his chest. She's surprised but she recovers pretty quickly and he feels her relax into him. He starts swaying them to the music inside.
"That must have been a relief to hear," she muses, her breath hot on his cheek.
"Apparently, it meant I was no longer letting Lily's behavior instruct my own." He also said he was starting to dissociate his romantic life from that of his parents and a whole bunch of other stuff that indicated he might not be a complete screw-up.
"I'm glad, Harvey." He can hear the sincerity in her words. He might have come a long way, but she's been there for every goddamn step of it.
Pressing his lips to her ear, he murmurs, "Should have done this days ago."
"Why didn't you?"
"I was waiting for you to come to me." She huffs and he has to agree. They're pretty damn stupid. "Why didn't you?"
"Maybe," she starts and he can tell she's not cracking a joke. "I wanted to wait and see if you still wanted this, with Thomas out of the picture."
He misses a step at that. "I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it."
"I didn't say you didn't mean it."
He nods. She has a point. Expressing himself never did come easy to him, but it was the follow through that he always struggled with the most. "Well, I do."
He feels her cheek move against his; she's smiling. "I'm so glad I lured you here."
Harvey pulls his head back, his eyes narrowing. "Are you saying you orchestrated this entire conversation?"
Smirking, she looks over his shoulder at the skyline, then back at him. "What I'm saying," she bites her lip and starts them moving again, her lips next to his ear, "Is that I orchestrated this entire evening."
His lips purse in a smirk when he realizes, "You fixed the straw draw."
She shrugs, "It's a possibility."
"I see. The real managing partner." He finds he doesn't mind it one bit. If anything, he's fucking grateful.
"Now you're getting it."
He's getting it alright. Continuing their dance, he leads them over to the farthest corner of the balcony until she's boxed in between him and the railing. Her lips part as she looks up at him and he wants to kiss her so badly.
Her voice is husky as she notes, "We don't seem to be dancing anymore."
"Got tired of dancing," he says as he drags his finger up her neck, feeling her swallow.
"Me, too," she whispers, looking at his lips.
His tongue darts out to wet them as he leans closer, watching her eyelids flutter closed. He does the same just before his mouth closes around hers and at first it's quite similar to their kiss in his office. But then it registers, he doesn't need to be holding back. He is free to pursue this. Fingers curling behind her ear, her mouth opens under his and when their tongues meet, he's a goner.
Groaning, he presses harder against her, deepening the kiss. His hand finds her hip as she trails his jaw, her other hand travelling up his torso and pressing against his chest. It feels like she's everywhere at once, her nails lightly scratching his scalp and her teeth around his lip and Harvey thinks if they carry on, he'll probably fuck her then and there, al fresco at a wedding of a major client. He needs to pull away, because jesus.
Catching his breath, he rests his forehead against hers.
Her breath is hot when she asks, "Wanna get out of here?"
"Christ, yes." He knows how he sounds, but really, she's felt his erection so he doesn't see the point in playing it cool.
Donna seems amused anyway. "Your place or mine?"
"Does it really matter?"
She thinks about that as he leads her inside. "I guess it doesn't."
With his hand on the small of her back, they weave their way between guests. They get stopped a few times and Donna nods and smiles in all the right places, but he's not as patient, excusing them as quickly as he can get away with.
"'You should probably find Kimberly, you know," she tells him as they reach the lobby.
"Louis can smooth things over, he's the managing partner," Harvey says flippantly because it's true. "And anyway, he loves sucking up to clients."
"Harvey," she admonishes, but he can tell her heart's not in it.
"Donna," he says, stopping. "I really don't want to talk about Louis right now."
She chuckles, biting her lip. "No," she fixes his tie. "You want us."
His tongue poking the inside of his cheek, he can't believe she's giving him shit already. "Is that how you wanna play it? Really?"
Donna grins, patting his chest. "That's exactly how we're gonna play it."
Harvey nods as he pushes the door open for her, "What are we waiting for?"
Grinning, she shakes her head, "Nice."
And he's never been one for hope – he prefers to count the cards and hedge his bets – but he's as close as he gets to being hopeful that night, going home with Donna Paulsen.
.
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II.
.
He spots her immediately.
She's the bride but more importantly, she's Jessica and Jessica has her unique Jessica presence. She's far from your typical blushing bride – she looks more annoyed than anything – and he has to smile.
She zeroes in on him and raises her eyebrow as he approaches.
"You look beautiful," he says, his hand on her waist as he kisses her cheek.
"Thank you, Harvey. You don't look too shabby yourself."
"Do I ever?"
"You've aged," she's all too happy to point out.
Harvey barks out a laugh. "You haven't aged a bit."
Inclining her head, Jessica agrees. "I'm happy."
Harvey nods; he can see that. "I'm really happy for you, Jessica."
She looks around the room, adding, "Now if only I could cut this circus short," she trails off.
Chortling, Harvey takes a sip of his drink. "Always the life and soul of the party. Even when it's your own damn wedding."
"Especially when it's my own damn wedding. Do you think I wanted this," she fixes him with a look.
"Let me guess. Your dad?"
"His dad," she widens her eyes. "Can you believe it." She shakes her head, eyes him. "The shit we do for love."
Harvey bites his bottom lip and smiles into the rim of his glass. He's not dignifying that with a response. She'll ask soon enough.
"So," she looks at him pointedly and his grin spreads wider.
"So?"
"Oh, cut the crap, Harvey. Where is she?"
"Who?"
"I'm pretty sure I still have enough pull in New York to get your ass fired."
Harvey chuckles and points with his glass, "She's talking to Sheila." He can't see her from all the people in the way, not properly, just a wisp of red hair and a curve of her shoulder, but she's Donna and he's Harvey. He always knows where she is in any given room. Has done so for years.
Jessica follows his hand. "I see." They're both looking in Donna's direction when Jessica says, "I spoke to her briefly before the ceremony. The woman was beaming."
Harvey shrugs, "She loves a good wedding."
"Mhmm," she muses. "I don't know what the hell she sees in you," she turns to him now, her tone changing from teasing to sincere. "But whatever it is, she's happy."
Harvey sucks the inside of his cheek, looks down at his shoes, nods. "Yeah," he looks up at her. "We are."
"I can see that," she says, and she flicks her chin. "About goddamn time." The waiter comes by and they take a fresh drink. Raising her flute to him, she says, "To finally getting our shit together."
Harvey mimics her actions, smiling, "I'll drink to that."
It's an hour later and the party is definitely picking up. He can see Jessica has certainly started enjoying herself. He grins, finishing his drink. He grins wider when he spots Donna approaching.
"There you are."
"There you are," he responds, his arm going around her waist on instinct. "How's Sheila?"
"She's alright. Still irritated with Louis for wanting to stay home with the baby."
Harvey rolls his eyes. "He's such a wuss."
Donna slaps his arm, "I think it's sweet that he doesn't want to leave him alone."
"It's hormonal, Donna. He would have been perfectly safe with the grandparents."
"It's easy to say that when it's not your kid. God only knows how you'd be." She means it as an off-handed remark, but he holds her gaze, wants to ask what she thinks he'd be like, but thinks that would be hormonal in its own way. He thinks she mistakes his silence for something else entirely because she breaks it by changing the subject. "Anyway," she takes his hand. "Are you gonna dance with me or what?"
"Can't we just go upstairs and have sex?" he moans and Donna shoots him a look that tells him exactly what she thinks of that suggestion. "Fine," he follows her to the dance floor. "But just think, we could be out of these clothes and putting a dent in the mini bar in under ten minutes."
She ignores him, like she often does, and he pulls her in and then they're swaying to the music. They're silent for most of the song, until she turns her head to him and says, "Too bad Mike couldn't make it."
He hums his agreement. "Too bad Rachel couldn't make it."
Donna nods, her nose moving against his cheek. "She's due any day now."
"The 15th?"
"The 17th."
"Right." He runs his hand up and down her back, stilling it on the small of her back again. "Can't believe Mike is going to be a dad," he muses. It's a hell of a thought.
"They're going to be amazing parents," he feels her smile into his jaw.
"We should visit," he looks at her from the corner of his eye. "When the baby's born."
Their schedules are full and the firm's been busier than ever. He's not the least bit surprised when she informs him. "I already booked our flights."
Harvey chuckles into her temple, brushes his lips there, "I'll clear my schedule."
They fall silent again as the song changes to some funky tune not meant for slow dancing at all. Donna starts to pull back, but he stops her, his palm firm on her back. "Harvey?"
"I want that." It's impulsive and poorly timed and completely true.
He feels her still in his arms. "You want," she cautions. "A baby?"
He frowns, shaking his head. "No." Reconsidering, he adds, "Yeah, maybe."
Donna pulls her head back to look at him. "Harvey?" Her expression would be comical if he could process it from all the blood rushing to his eardrums. "What are you –"
"Marry me."
She's speechless, her eyes darting between his, and whatever her response, that's kind of a proud moment right there. Donna Paulsen, lost for words. Her silence seems to drag on a little too long, so he comments, "If I knew the only thing I needed to do to shut you up was to propose," he trails off cause there really is no right way to end that sentence. He swallows, "Say something."
She sucks in her lips until they are a thin line, cocking her head to one shoulder, "Are you serious?"
"It's not something I usually joke about."
"No, I know, but," she takes a deep breath, looks around. "Jessica just got married and Mike and Rachel are having a baby." She pauses and looks at him. Reaching to run her hand through her hair she lets it hang by her side when she remembers she has an updo. "It's a lot. Enough to make anyone emotional. Even you," she laughs nervously.
He doesn't let her dismiss it. "I'm not emotional, Donna, I'm in love with you."
She looks surprised. As if he didn't tell her the night before, as he buried himself inside her, and about ten dozen times in ten dozen different ways since they've been together. More, if they count all the years before that.
She bites her bottom lip as Natalie Cole says a little prayer for him somewhere a million miles away. People dance merrily around them but he barely notices. "We haven't been together that long—" she starts, but he interrupts her.
"We've been together for almost fifteen years, Donna."
She shakes her head but it's in fond exasperation; he knows that head shake well. "I didn't think this would happen."
"Well, it's happening."
"It's such a faux pas to propose at a wedding."
He reaches for her hand, holds the tips of her fingers between his. "I've never been much for protocol."
"I know that."
"You know everything."
She shrugs. "I'm Donna," she says, because it's expected.
He tugs at her fingers and brings her in, his voice low and steady when he says, "You most certainly are." What he's really saying is she's the love of his life, but he doesn't voice that. If her expression is anything to go by, she hears it anyway.
"You sure you want to spend the rest of our lives together?"
"Aren't we doing that anyway?" he raises his eyebrows at her as his hands find her hips and sway them slowly, to no particular tune.
She watches him for a long moment, her eyes wide and wet and happy. "I guess we are."
Harvey feels a smile threatening to take over, but he reins it in, for just a moment. "Just to make sure. Are you saying yes to me?"
"Yes," she struggles to contain her own smile. "I am."
"Good," he grins.
"Good."
His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he leans in, his hands kneading her waist, and he kisses her right there, in the middle of the wedding, not giving a damn about protocol. No one knows, anyway, except probably Jessica, somehow, because that woman knows everything. She'll be happy for them. He's fucking happy for them.
Pulling apart, he grins at her like a goddamn fool.
"I hope I'm getting a ring out of this," she teases.
Dragging his mouth to her ear, he says in a low voice, "Top of the wardrobe, where you can't reach." She pulls back, her mouth agape. He smirks, "I've had one for weeks."
Linking her arms around his neck, her fingers in the hair at the back of his head, she kisses him, all open mouth and none of the protocol, and he'd still prefer it if they were in their hotel room and alone, but this is pretty close to perfect.
.
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III.
.
"Finally," he says slumping back against the front door, undoing his bowtie and letting it dangle undone around his neck.
Donna looks at him as she takes off her shoes, "Long day?"
Letting his head fall back against the wood, he considers this, "Good day."
She agrees with a smirk, "Very good day." Narrowing her eyes, she cocks her head and asks, "How did you get so lucky?"
"Mike asked me that earlier," he says, undoing the top button of his shirt. Much better.
"What did you say?"
"That he should be asking himself the very same question."
"This is very true," she agrees, turning around and going for the mini bar. "A drink, Mr Specter?"
"I'll have a drink with you, Mrs Specter."
She sets the glasses next to each other and starts pouring, "That's Mrs Paulsen-Specter to you."
"No one's going to be pronouncing Paulsen, you know that, right," he asks in jest as she hands him his drink.
Donna treats him to one of her trademark blinks, "Keep it up, and that's all they'll be pronouncing."
Smiling at her, he clinks his glass against hers, "Congratulations, Mrs Paulsen-Specter."
"Mazel tov, Mr Specter."
Harvey snorts in his drink then takes a step forward, his free arm going around her waist to bring her closer, murmuring against her lips, "You looked beautiful today."
"You were pretty damn handsome yourself," she says between kisses, in that low voice that goes straight to his groin. She runs her free hand across his chest and to his back, and he's already setting his drink aside when she pulls away. "Okay, enough of that."
"Donna," he groans in frustration. "Really?"
But she's already halfway across the room, "Hold your horses, jeez." Drink in hand, she comes to a stop in front of his record collection, running her fingers over the vinyl. "I want to do something first."
He takes a step towards her, "What could possibly be more important than us having lawfully wedded sex?"
She shoots him a look over her shoulder then goes back to her task. She stops as she finds what she's looking for. "Ah," she teases the record out and he can't quite see what it is from this angle, but then she walks over to the turntable and Harvey stares at the empty spot on the shelf.
He grazes his teeth over his bottom lip and finishes his drink in one quick gulp. "Donna," he starts conversationally, setting the glass down. "What are you doing?" It's kind of obvious, even more so when his dad's favorite track starts playing, but it's something to say and he needs to say something.
Walking over to him, the lace of her wedding dress dragging on the floor around her feet now that she's out of her heels, she puts her own drink down, unfinished, on the coffee table. "This is the song you really wanted to dance to tonight," she says quietly as way of an explanation as she comes to a stop in front of him, taking his hand and entwining their fingers together. He feels her wedding ring against his skin, runs a thumb over it. "But that would have been too intimate in front of everyone, so." Her eyes slide down from his face to his neck and he thinks it's to give him a moment to get his bearings.
He doesn't think he's ever loved her more.
When he trusts himself to speak, he utters, "Are you asking me to dance?"
"No," she looks up at him, her thumb drawing circles on his palm. "I'm asking you to ask me to dance."
The corner of his mouth tugs, "Donna." He cocks his head to the side, "Would you like to dance?"
"I'd love to dance," she answers simply and leads him to the middle of the room.
He takes her in his arms, the fingers of his right hand splayed over the small of her back, pressing her to him as she hooks a hand over his shoulder, one of her nails gently brushing just above his collar. The song is an eight minute exercise in perfection; he knows each note by heart. There's a bit around a five minute mark, his dad's solo, and he feels it in his bones. He sees him so clearly they ache.
"He used to play this for me after every rehearsal," he murmurs against her temple. "To make up for the fact I had to sit and watch him play instead of taking me somewhere fun, I guess." He pauses as the sax dies down, only to pick up again a moment later. "I loved it, though. I could have sat there and listened to him for hours."
Her fingers move to caress the back of his neck, her voice low in his ear, "He was one of a kind."
Harvey nods, his nose nuzzling her hair, "He really was."
"He would have been happy today."
Harvey smiles, "He sure would." His fingers on her back draw in, bunching her dress, bringing her closer still. "He was crazy about you."
He can feel her smile against his jaw, "Runs in the family, I guess."
Grinning, he closes his eyes. "I guess it does."
Donna knows when to tease and when to reciprocate, it's one of the things he appreciates most about her. This time is no different. "I'm so glad to be part of your family."
Harvey's had a pretty emotional day. He's watched her walk to him surrounded by their people, and he's listened to her say I do, and neither of those things he ever thought would happen. Neither of those things he ever really wanted to happen, before her. He's kissed her for the first time as his lawfully wedded wife, for better or for worse, but that didn't feel all that different to the last fourteen years.
This shouldn't feel any different, either. She's always been his family.
Except it does. Except now they're a family.
Pulling back, he looks at her, opens his mouth to say something then closes it. Sighing, he tries again. "Thank you. For this. For," he clicks his tongue, frustrated with how hard this is for him. Still.
She makes it easier, "For putting up with you all these years?"
"You haven't exactly been a picnic yourself."
They're just standing there, looking at each other, and he takes in her face, familiar, so familiar, and the sense of belonging is almost overwhelming. He gives his head a little shake and says what he actually wants to say which is, "Thank you for marrying me, Donna."
Her lips curve and her brow softens, her hand coming to rest on his cheek. "Thank you for asking, Harvey."
They smile at each other like a pair of fools until the song finishes and the next one begins. He draws her closer by her waist and she wraps her arms around his neck, and they slow dance like that for a while. At some point, he starts kissing her neck and she moans his name, dragging her lips to his, opening her mouth until he's tasting her. His hands slip lower as her fingers rake through his hair. He finds her zipper and she tells him to be careful, but he doesn't think he is, doesn't think she really cares.
He doesn't carry her over the threshold of their bedroom, or any other threshold for that matter. She pulls him in there by his shirt as she unbuttons it, and he finds that so much more appropriate, anyway.
They make love and he's only ever done that with her, and every time he can't believe what he was missing out on during all those years, before. He's buried deep inside her, his hands around hers on the pillow, in her hair, and when he comes it's to her I love you against his lips.
He has no idea how he got so lucky, but he certainly feels it, even as she nudges him awake to roll him off of her only to lift his arm and lay her head on his chest, her leg thrown over both of his, her hair tickling his chin.
He's aware of his ring, the way it sits on his finger; suspects that will take some getting used to. He falls asleep with his thumb pressing into the metal, his other thumb resting on Donna's hip, and he's so fucking glad he asked.
.
.
IV.
.
They are at Samantha's wedding, and Donna looks uncomfortable.
She's eight months pregnant, whatever that is in weeks.
(she's 38 weeks and two days, and he and Donna both know he knows that, but she lets him pretend anyway)
She looks it, not that he'd ever say that out loud. Harvey thinks she looks amazing, which he does say out loud, a lot. Donna dismisses it as paternal pride or something else she read on the internet or in a book, and there's that, sure, and it's a large part of it; but there's also wanting to screw her in the file room, and there is nothing paternal about that.
When they announced the pregnancy, Rachel made him put this reminder on his phone so he wouldn't forget to say something suitably complimentary and encouraging often enough to make her feel good about herself, but rare enough so as to not rouse suspicion.
Donna figured it out second week in. "You're an idiot," was all she said, but he saw her smile, so he guessed she appreciated the effort.
She is past appreciating anything at this stage, but she soldiers on anyway and there was "not a chance in hell" she'd miss what she referred to as "the lesbian wedding of the year", so here they are, a very pregnant Donna and a mildly bored Harvey, chatting to Louis and Sheila at the Wheeler-Chen reception.
"So, have you decided on the name?" Sheila asks conversationally, and Harvey groans. "Oh. Touchy subject?"
"No," Donna offers. "Harvey is just being difficult."
"Donna wants to name our child after a metaphor."
"Allegory," Donna corrects as if it matters.
"Excuse me?" Sheila is at a loss.
"Don't listen to him, he is just low brow."
"Shakespeare?" Louis asks with an understanding nod.
"Thank you, Louis!" Donna turns her palm up, smug.
Harvey shakes his head, rolling his eyes. They've been having this conversation for months.
.
"Ophelia is a hard no."
"Why, Harvey?" She hands him the folder, taking a seat. "Give me one good reason."
"It's fucking tragic, Donna," he says, thumbing it open.
"It's a name, Harvey. Don't be childish."
"I don't care. I'm not naming my daughter after a tragedy."
"Well, if you want to be technical," she sits back in the chair, crossing her legs. "The play is called Hamlet, so," she says needlessly. Like he didn't go to Harvard.
He lifts his head from the contract as he reaches for the pen. "Didn't she commit suicide?"
"It's an allegory."
"I don't care if it's an alliteration, it's too depressing." Donna huffs, rolling her eyes, but he pays her no mind. "Surely there are other Shakespearean names that don't immediately remind of death?"
"Okay," she accepts that challenge. "How about Eleanor?" He grimaces and she tries another, "Beatrice?"
"Are you carrying this baby until she's sixty?"
But Donna is on a roll, "Cordelia?"
"Donna." Ophelia is starting to sound better and better by the minute.
"Helena?"
He's ready to object, simply as a reflex, but then he thinks about it. "Well, that's not too," he pauses, frowning. "Is that the one where they all take drugs and turn into animals and have sex?"
"Well, actually –"
"Another allegory?" He cocks his head knowingly. "Yeah, no," he mouths, grabbing a pen and licking the tip, signing the dotted line then the next.
"Okay, so what's your brilliant suggestion?"
"I don't know. Something non-weird and non-tragic," he hands her back the folder.
Standing up, she takes it, smiling when he doesn't let go right away. "This conversation is weird and tragic," she shakes her head.
He gets up, kissing her over his desk. A quick peck; she doesn't like office affection. "I'll see you at home."
She palms his cheek, "I'll think of more names. Oooh, maybe something foreign!"
Groaning, he sits back down, watching her exit.
Truth is, he can't wait.
.
They sort of left it at that, and there's now two weeks until her due date and the baby remains nameless. The middle name, at least, was easy enough, so that's something.
Donna needs the bathroom and Sheila accompanies her, so it's just him and Louis.
"Hey, Harvey, how's your mom?"
"She's okay. Still herself. Still lucid." He shifts on his feet. Louis means well, but he doesn't really want to talk about this. He feels like he needs to give him something. "They say it's slow progressing, so that's good news."
"That is good news," Louis agrees.
Harvey simply nods, sipping on his drink, trying to tune out Louis rambling about some aunt or a neighbour with dementia. He doesn't want to hear about how bad it got or think about the future. Lily is a fighter. She will be fine. He can't allow himself to think otherwise, not after all the years they've wasted.
He sees Donna approaching and thank god for that. "If you don't mind, Louis, I'd like to dance with my wife."
Donna grabs his arm, pulls him aside, "Yeah, I don't think so."
"What do you –"
"I'm pretty sure I'm in labor," she grits through her teeth.
"What? How do you –"
"Let's not go into details here, Harvey." Her eyes widen and she looks down. He follows her gaze.
"Shit."
"Yeah."
He fishes out his phone, dialling. "Are you sure?" She shoots him a look and he frowns, "I thought it came on gradually."
"I may have been having some mild contractions since this afternoon."
Harvey pulls his head back, "What? And you didn't think to mention it?"
"I thought they were Braxton hicks," she explains as he waits for Ray to pick up. "I'm still two weeks off my due date."
"Dammit, Donna," he escorts her to the lobby just as Ray answers. "Hey, Ray, Donna's in labor. I need you to bring the car around, now." He hangs up and looks at her, "He'll be right there."
She puts a gentle hand on his forearm, "Stop panicking, it's fine." He feels her fingers clench and her face contorts in pain, and she is not making a compelling argument here.
Putting his arms around her, he waits until it passes. "Okay?"
She nods, but she doesn't look as confident as a minute ago.
He looks at the door. "Where the fuck is Ray?"
"It's only been a minute, jesus, Harvey." She's standing up straighter now, "Look, these things take hours. We have plenty of time."
Turns out it doesn't take hours at all, and their daughter nearly gets born in the back of Ray's limo. Luckily, Ray isn't above running a few red lights and they get there with fifteen minutes to spare before she makes her grand entrance into this world at 9:36 on the day of the lesbian wedding of the year.
An hour later and they're finally alone and clean and Harvey looks at Donna holding their daughter, arm under her spine, her perfect head cradled in her mother's hand, and she looks like she's been doing this for years. Her hair is gathered in a messy bun and her make-up is gone and she's wearing a hospital gown – and he'll really need to go home and get her bag later on – and she's never been more beautiful to him. She'd probably dismiss it as paternal pride, but he knows it's just that he's crazy about her.
"Do you think your daddy might come over here and help me name you, little girl?" she asks softly without lifting her eyes.
He huffs and comes to sit next to her, his arm propped on the bed behind her, his chin on her shoulder as he looks down at their girl. Her eyes are closed, but they were open earlier and they're his.
"Samantha texted," he whispers in her ear, "Says we should name the baby after her."
"For stealing her thunder?" Donna chuckles.
Harvey hums into her hair, tracing his daughter's features with his fingers. "She does kinda look like Ophelia," he murmurs, his other hand squeezing her waist, deciding to start fatherhood with a compromise. The name has grown on him anyway.
"Really," Donna muses, staring down at their baby with a gentle smile. "I think she looks more like a Lily."
His fingers still and his breath catches in his throat. He swallows, the emotion overwhelming. "Donna, I appreciate that, but we don't have to –"
"Of course not," she dismisses gently. "But I like it. And I think your mom will love that."
"She will," he agrees, his voice breaking. He clears his throat. "She'll love it." Little fingers close around his index and he's so focused on their baby he doesn't even notice his eyes watering. "Pleased to meet you, Lily Rachel Specter."
He's never belonged anywhere more than he does on that hospital bed – not in any courtroom or in any deposition – and he's perfectly content to stay there for a good long while, with his daughter holding onto him and Donna by his side, right where she's always been.
.
.
V.
.
Standing on the edge of the dance floor, left hand in his pocket, Harvey watches their daughter dance with a few of the other children her age. He knows Nathan and the others, he guesses, are in some way or another related to Joy Williams. He doesn't know Joy that well, but Alex has become one of his closest friends over the last decade and he's paying for his daughter's wedding and, looking around, Harvey decides he's invited everyone he's ever crossed paths with. He gets it. He's the father of an only daughter himself.
She looks a lot like him, Lily, the eyes and the mouth, but she has Donna's hair and Donna's complexion, and her nose is small and pointy and just slightly upturned, and he thinks about all the times he's made it disappear between his fingers over the last eight years, only to reappear behind her ear.
Before her, he always thought he was going to be above all that, the cliché and the cheese. He was proven spectacularly wrong pretty early on. He played her Miles when she was a colicky baby and he played her Gordon as he showed her his family album and he taught her how to bat and he glared at the first boy she liked, and he'd never seen a six year old run so fast before. It was kind of impressive.
"She seems to be having a good time."
"She is," he agrees, turning to look at Donna coming to stand beside him. "Hasn't looked over once."
"That's because she's having a good time," Donna repeats, sipping on her drink. "Are you feeling left out?"
He knows when he's being made fun of, but it's also true. "A little," he admits. "The last wedding we went to, she," he trails off, trying to remember.
"She crashed the last wedding we went to," Donna chuckles. "You're thinking of Mike and Rachel's wedding anniversary."
"Oh, yeah," he says, remembering the headache. "Well, anyway, that time she spent most of the night glued to us."
"She was three, Harvey."
Harvey sighs, looking over at Lily ignoring them. "It sure goes fast."
Donna laughs, "You're such a cliché, you know that." She places her hand on the inside of his elbow, giving it a small squeeze. "Getting sentimental in your old age?"
"Hey, the fifties are the new thirties."
"Sure." Rubbing her hand down his forearm, she says, "She'll always need us, Harvey. Just not as much." Harvey purses his lips and doesn't look at her and pretends not to be bothered. He's pretty sure he's failed when he hears her laugh again. "She also doesn't need constant supervision."
"I know that." Pointing with his glass, he says, "I'm keeping my eye on Nathan there."
Donna follows his gaze over to where Nate is making their daughter smile. "He's ten, Harvey."
"I'm not taking any chances, Donna. I'm not letting those Litt teeth anywhere near my genepool."
Donna shakes her head. "Cut the bullshit, you love that kid."
Harvey did love Nate. He wasn't going to make a big deal out of it, though. "He's my godson, I have to love him."
Donna rolls her eyes at him. "Is that why you take him to the game any chance you get?"
"I can't very well trust Louis to do it, can I," he makes a point by curving his lips, but Donna isn't buying it. He looks over at Nate who's actually a good-looking kid – the Sazs genes clearly the dominant genes, thank christ – and says, "And just because he's not good enough for Lily, doesn't mean he won't date, and I have to make sure the yodelling and the ballet are counterbalanced with sports and cars and coolness." Donna laughs at that; there really is no arguing that point. Speaking of his godchild, "I wish Mike and Rachel moved the hell back already."
"She said next year."
He frowns, "He said end of this year."
"He's probably sensing you pressuring him."
"When have I ever –"
But she cuts him off with wide eyes and an incredulous look.
"Fine. I miss the kid. Whatever. Now," setting his drink down, he extends his hand, "Shall we?"
"Don't mind if I do," she smiles and he follows her to the dancefloor, and it's an exchange he can't quite put his finger on - they've danced a fair few times over the last ten years. He's suddenly hit by the memory of a time when touching her was off limits, when even the smallest contact was charged with double meaning and untold feeling; it makes him stop in his tracks. He hasn't thought about it much recently, not really, and it's hard to believe now, that such a time ever existed. Looking over at Donna, holding his hand and looking at him with a puzzled frown, he thinks he's so fucking lucky they ended up here.
"Everything okay?"
He shakes it off and takes her in his arms. "Everything is perfect."
She's looking at him suspiciously still, and he kisses it away, his mouth gentle on hers. "I know when I'm being manipulated by Harvey Specter," she mumbles against his lips.
"I know," he smiles. "Works every time."
Donna pinches his side and kisses him again at the same time, and he can't believe she's still giving him mixed signals.
They're interrupted by Jack Hind, one of their newer partners and a complete jackass, slapping Harvey's shoulder and being generally obnoxious. Donna smiles politely, but even she can't stand him, which is how he knows he's not "just being difficult". He gloats about his golf stats and his cigar collection, then finally leaves when he spots someone he has yet to annoy.
Harvey turns back to Donna, resuming their dance. "That guy is such a prick."
Donna laughs into his neck. "You only say that because he beat you at golf last week."
"Whatever. He's fifteen years younger than me."
"It's not exactly an agility sport."
"Shows what you know about golf."
She rolls her eyes at him, "You were never good at golf anyway."
"I've been working on my swing, it's pretty impressive. Maybe I'll show Jack later."
"Harvey," she warns because she's well aware he's only half joking. "Jack is a partner. He's also the father of that girl that's been playing with Lily for half the night. I'm not sure your daughter or the named partners would be too impressed with your temper."
He grunts his response; Jack is an asshole and Harvey's not committing to anything yet. "I'll get him next time."
He spins them slowly around when she asks, "Does it bother you?"
"That he beat me at golf? Please. We're playing poker next week. I'll clean him out. He won't know what hit him."
"No," she draws out, slapping his bicep, but he can feel her smiling into his neck.
"What's going on in that head of yours?" he pulls back to get a read on her.
She shrugs, shaking her head, but he stares it out of her. "It's nothing, it's stupid," she looks over his shoulder. "They got such a head start."
Harvey doesn't get it at first, head start at what? But before he can ask, she's looking back at him, then at the group of kids, eyebrows climbing and he gets it. "Ah," he mouths, drawing her in and resuming their dance. "Do you regret it?"
"Do you?"
"Sometimes," he muses into her hair. Staring into the crowd, he moves them around other couples. "I should have gotten my shit together sooner."
"I should have waved my rule sooner."
"You did," he raises his eyebrows as well as two fingers over her hand he's holding, "Twice."
She stops moving to look at him, "You're really never letting that go."
"The fact that you dated a hitman and an interior designer before me? No, Donna, I'm not ever letting that go."
"He wasn't an interior— " she sighs. "You know what? Never mind."
He smirks as he pulls her close. "What about you? Any regrets?"
She doesn't say anything for the longest time, but he's pretty sure of her answer. Long gone are the days when their relationship was a repressed mess. They've now spent almost the same amount of years being Harvey and Donna the couple in love as they did Harvey and Donna the couple of idiots in love, and though they were still them and them could be difficult, it was a tamed sort of difficulty that comes when you know that this is it and this is forever. As Donna once told him on the back end of a pretty spectacular argument not long after they got married, "I'm not ever leaving you, Harvey, and I don't think you're ever leaving me, so you can sleep on the couch or you can come to bed, but you better get the fuck over yourself by tomorrow because we're not having this fight for the next forty years."
It became a sort of mantra.
So, no, he doesn't need to apologize for being such a fool for such a long time, but he likes to score points where he can. Before he has the chance to, though, she finally gives her answer, "No. None." Lifting her head to look at him, she adds, "If we had done it before we were really ready, who knows if we'd be here now."
He raises his eyebrows at her, "Very philosophical of you."
"Someone once told me I should have been a philosopher."
Sticking his tongue in his cheek, he grins, "Sounds like a wise and worldly man."
"He likes to think so," she fixes his tie; old habits. "He's wrong."
"I prefer you bossing me around anyway."
"I'm so naturally good at it."
"You really are," he smiles down at her.
"It just makes sense."
"It really does."
Smiling, he closes the distance and kisses her softly on the lips, her hands moving behind his ear, nape of his neck, bringing him closer and deepening the kiss. It's nothing inappropriate, just his top lip between hers, his tongue darting out only enough to taste her bottom one as they move to the music.
Feeling someone tugging on his arm, he cracks open an eye to look at the intruder. His smile widens when he sees their daughter there, grinning. She gets the grin from him, too. "Hello, stranger." He turns, offering his hand, "Come to dance with your parents?"
She gives them both a hug, smiling up at them. "Well, actually, I wanted to ask if I can go out back with Charlotte and Amy. There's cotton candy and a photo booth and –"
"Wow, Alex really did go all out," Donna comments.
"Hang on, hang on," Harvey looks at Lily. "Who's," he narrows his eyes, "Who was it again?"
"Charlotte and Amy. Mom knows them," she turns to her mom, wide eyes, and that's all Donna.
"Mom does know them," Donna nods solemnly at him. Of course she does.
Harvey shrugs at Donna – he's not going to be the one to stand in the way of all that fun – and Donna narrows her eyes and gives him that look then turns to Lily, "Of course you can go." And Lily is beaming and thanking her, ready to turn away and go just as Donna adds, "Dance with us first." Lily opens her mouth to protest, no doubt, but Donna's finger is raised and they both know what that means. "One song. Deal?"
Looking to the side, she considers. "Deal," she agrees, deeming the terms more than fair. "I'll just go tell them I'll meet them there, okay." And she's gone before they get a say.
"What do Charlotte and Amy have that we don't," he muses, watching her run off.
Donna snorts. "We're old news, old man. Enjoy it while it's just girlfriends."
Harvey groans, "Donna." But she's laughing, patting his chest and he's shaking his head, but if he's honest, he's here for it. He's here for all of it.
As their daughter runs back over to them, all limbs and freckles and long red hair; as she clasps her mother's hand and rests her head against his side; as he thanks Donna wordlessly and gets a wink in response while they sway to whatever hit is playing, one arm hugging Lily to him, the other in Donna's hand, he feels like it was definitely worth it, taking his time.
He can't imagine not sharing his life with Donna Paulsen-Specter.
.