Hi, so this is a quick ficlet because I read a line in a book today and it had me immediately dream up a Darvey scenario, so here it is. Enjoy, and would love to know what you think x - M

29 - TRACKPOINT

It's ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous, that this is what gets to her.

Two years, three months and thirteen days since that one night. The one she was supposed to forget about and she was doing so well, so it's absolutely ridiculous that such a tiny little thing has her mind spinning, and her stomach fluttering.

If only he hadn't been such a pain in the ass about it.

A new computer.

Nay, laptop.

"Lap.. top.." that's how he pronounces it, dragging out the word as long as possible, discontent dripping off every syllable that leaves his lips.

"It works just the same, you know," she counters, signalling the new Dell on his desk, gently pushing it in his direction. She flips the screen open and presses the ON button. "Only this one you can take with you when you meet a client."

Harvey rolls his eyes at her explanation; it's not that he doesn't know what a laptop is. It's just that he doesn't want one, and he has told her so. Okay, maybe not explicitly, but he had grunted and huffed when she came barging into his office last week telling him about the rollout of the new equipment. So she knows, and she should have stopped it from happening.

"The keyboard is tiny," he whines instead, bringing his hands to a gadget that now flashes his name on the screen - enter password mentioned directly under it.

He hits the keys with more vigour than necessary, letting out his annoyance at the object. For a second the thought that if he manhandles this thing, he might get his trusty old desktop back. He can hear Donna sigh and he knows he's being an ass, but he's never dealt well with change, no matter how silly it might be.

"There's also no mouse."

She gives him a pointed look and leans over his desk, pointing at the black square under the keyboard. "That's because it has a trackpad."

"A what."

"A -" Donna stops her sentence before she can even truly start it. Bringing her index finger to it instead, she drags it over the pad and catches the cursor move over his screen. "See, it works just like a mouse."

"Except it can't click."

"Jesus, Harvey," she sighs now, lifting her hands in the air in surrender. "Just double tap, click the buttons under the pad or use the .. the.. thingie."

He frowns and peers up at her. "The thingie?"

"Yeah." She half shakes her head and nods at the same time. "The red thingie in the middle of your keyboard."

"This," he counters, bringing his index finger to the red dot.

It's ridiculous. It's absolutely ridiculous, but when she watches his finger touch it and move it around, it brings back memories she's tried so hard to suppress. Her breath falters, she feels her cheeks starting to blush, and her stomach flutters as she watches the slow circle his finger makes.

"There's absolutely no way this is called a thingie," he counters, moving the little button around as he watches the cursor move over his screen at a rapid tempo.

It takes her a second longer than it should, mouth gaping as she tears her gaze away from his finger. "Who cares what it's called."

"I do," he fires back, "if you're going to make me use … this.." he emphasises the word by moving his finger clockwise first and counterclockwise right afterwards. "So."

"Hmm?" She shakes her head a little, cursing herself for letting her attention drag to his motion once again. She shifts on her spot, doing her best not to press her legs together lest she now draw any attention to herself.

"What's it called?"

His question doesn't indicate his awareness of the state she is in, and she figures it's better to distract herself too. So she brings out her Blackberry and searches for this useless information. The first result is a Wikipedia page, and she opens it, her eyes scanning over it.

A pointing stick (or TrackPoint, also referred to generically as a nub or nipple) is a small analog stick used as a pointing device typically mounted centrally in a computer keyboard.

Harvey turns to look at her as he waits for Donna's answer. He studies her face, and his gaze narrows in on her when he sees her lips part a little, and he's almost certain he sees her blush.

She curses herself for searching now; the sight alone was doing things to her, bringing back memories of his hand, his index finger, making the same exact movements over her body all those years ago.

The Wikipedia page now telling her it's also referred to as a nipple or a nub has her feel it in those places.

"It's a .." she starts, looking away from her phone. "It's a Trackpoint."

"A Trackpoint."

She hums and makes the mistake of looking at him again, her eyes locking with his, and it brings back this one particular memory of the other time - his finger moving between her slit before he circled her clit as he mirrored the motion with his tongue around her erect nipple. Worshipping her body like no one else before, it was the way he'd looked at her then as he did it, gaze locked with her own, that she knew she was in trouble.

Knew that she could fall in love with him if she let herself.

But she doesn't.

"Yep," she hums then. "A Trackpoint. I uhm…" Donna motions over her shoulder with her left hand, then, for some reason, does it again with her other. "Have to go.. uhm.. back to work."

He shakes his head and chuckles to himself, her behaviour feeling off, and normally he'd press her for details or fish around a little more about what's gotten her on edge. He doesn't get the chance to do so today.

But that doesn't mean he's forgotten about it.

In fact, it's on his mind for the rest of the day, and it's only after she's left, and he's still expressing his annoyance at the changes at the stupid red little button that it hits him.

Her behaviour changed because of this little button, in particular when she told him what is called - a Trackpoint.

He types it in, then, in his search bar. Curious now if she was even telling the truth, but it sounded logical to him.

He uses the Trackpoint to move to the first result, clicking on the link, and he watches his screen turn to Wikipedia - the word she used to describe it indeed mentioned in the article. The other two words catch his attention, now knowing exactly where her mind had been.

He smirks then. Maybe having to use a laptop wasn't going to be so bad after all.