A/N: They celebrated Mother's Day now...
Father's Day
The first year, he spends Father's Day building the crib and decorating the nursery with Donna. Then he makes love to his pregnant wife on the hardwood floor, surrounded by disassembled furniture and paint buckets, and listens to her playfully complain about severe back pains later.
The second year, Donna gives him a framed photo - the first shot ever captured of him holding their baby girl, right after he saw her push her way into the world, screaming her protest as they took her from her snug little nest.
The third year, Donna presents him with a personalized whiskey decanter engraved with his name and title – Harvey Specter, World's Best Dad – and a hoodie with expandable mesh pockets for bottles, wipes, diapers and more, so he doesn't have to lug a huge bag around.
This year, Donna surprises him with baseball tickets, saying it is the express wish of their daughter, who has already become a quick-witted three-year-old, a thinker skilled far beyond her age.
Anticipation bubbles within Harvey as he takes a quick shower before the game. Once he's done getting ready, he expects to see his girl dressed in those baseball jerseys and matching hats he bought for the whole family. But that image evaporates quickly.
Donna stands in the center of the open-plan living area wearing a navy-blue sundress covered with bright yellow sunflowers, her feet in a pair of Valentino wedge sandals. Her hair is loose, but she's pulled a few strands back from her face with a clip.
The sight of her is so beautiful that Harvey freezes for a moment before he considers throwing himself on his hands and knees and pouring out his thanks to the universe for blessing him with the goddess that is his wife.
"Good God, I love you," he murmurs, shaking his head, unable to believe the intensity of what he is feeling. "You look so…" He walks over to her and reaches out to caress her cheek, his thumb tracing Donna's lower lip. "I feel like I can't breathe."
"Mm," she hums as she teases his finger with her tongue.
Harvey feels his breath hitch in his throat at her gesture. "Donna," he sighs out her name, focusing on letting his breath out slowly.
"If you think I look beautiful, you should see your daughter," she says, a teasing smile lifting her lips.
"Where is she?"
"Right behind you," Donna replies, averting her gaze to look over his shoulder at their little girl.
Slowly, Harvey turns around. Then he gives a startled gasp, his eyes bugging out as big as saucers from the surprise of seeing his daughter in a dress that matches the color of her mother's.
When she moves, the folds in the skirt look blue and the creases black and the dress sways so elegantly, as if it is dancing with her. A baby blue ribbon with slightly frayed ends is pinned in her hair, and her pink ballet flats flaunt a glittery upper that features a velvet bow accent.
"Is that really our girl?" he asks, choked up with emotion.
"She's growing up," Donna chuckles.
"I forbid it," Harvey retorts. "She's not allowed to grow up."
Every day with his daughter is like opening up a jewelry box filled with beautiful, sparkling treasures and she is the most priceless treasure of them all.
Harvey can't imagine ever letting her leave home to take on the world. What if she goes to college and never calls? What if she is so busy being an adult, she won't have time to come home anymore? Or worse, she doesn't want to come home?
He remembers how freaked out he was at first at the mere thought of becoming a father, but it doesn't compare to this: the feeling of realizing his daughter is growing up too fast, and the fear of missing out. He doesn't want to miss a single moment in her life.
"Look at her, Donna," he exclaims, awestruck.
He has never seen his baby look more beautiful – the smile she wears on her face, he feels, is just there for him. It almost seems a little coy, and he can't help but grin slightly. Who would've thought that his daughter's bubbly nature hides such shyness?
"I must be dreaming," Harvey says as he kneels before the toddler. He roams his big hands over her small figure – her arms, legs, hair, and face – and lets out a gasp in mock surprise. "I'm not. You're real!"
She giggles.
"Are you Hazel Paulsen-Specter?"
She nods.
"Are you sure?"
She nods again, trying hard not to laugh.
"Then that makes me the luckiest man on earth, because my daughter," —he kisses first her right cheek— "looks like a real princess," then her left.
"This is for you, Daddy," she says, holding out the gift that she clutches in her chubby fingers.
Harvey smiles as he carefully takes it from her.
She has cut sheets of colorful craft paper into the shape of his signature neckwear – lopsided fat little ties. At the top of each tie, she punched holes and threaded a pipe cleaner through them, so it appears like a booklet. On the front, in giant, wobbly letters, it says For Daddy.
"It's a coupon book," Hazel announces, her eyes sparkling with pride.
Inside, each tie-shaped page is decorated with glitter glue and adorned with a wobbly hand-drawn picture.
As he turns over the one with the wonky heart, Harvey sees Good for 1 super big hug written in loopy scrawls. He smirks at the effort his daughter made to circle the word super twice for emphasis.
Another tie-shaped coupon features a sun on the front with squiggly lines radiating outwards, and a patch of green to illustrate grass. The back reads Good for 1 whole day of park play.
Underneath Hazel's scribbles, Harvey notices the clear lines of Donna's elegant handwriting. It looks like she wrote the letters first, then let their daughter trace the outlines with her crayons. This makes it a sweet collaboration between mother and daughter.
He fights back a lump in his throat. The pure, unadulterated love that shines through every line, every uneven crayon stroke brings tears to his eyes.
When he sees the next coupon, sporting a lipstick imprint, he cracks a wide grin. "Oh, I think I know this one." He looks up at his daughter, who bounces on her toes in anticipation. "That's my kiss coupon."
"Yes," she squeals.
Harvey smiles, pulling his daughter into a tight embrace. "Looks like the best kind of coupon, sweetheart," he murmurs.
Hazel giggles, then wriggles free and grabs another tie. "What about this, Daddy?"
He looks at the front, a bunch of squiggly lines and dots all jumbled together that don't paint a clear picture. But as he sees the words Good for 1 tickle fight written on the back, he realizes her scribbles do indeed perfectly resemble the chaotic nature of a tickle fight.
"Sounds like a fantastic coupon, too," he says, grinning. "Is there also one for after-work snuggles? Because those are my favorite kinda snuggles."
The toddler wrinkles her forehead as she tries to remember all the coupons she made.
"You'll get a bonus coupon," Donna intervenes, knowing how fast their daughter's mood will change once she realizes the one Harvey's asking about is, in fact, not part of the booklet. "You even get to decide what's on the cover," she quips.
"You can help me put it in the book," Hazel beams, her gap-toothed grin lighting up the room.
She flings her arms around Harvey's neck, burrowing her face against his chest. Harvey holds her tight, the little booklet clutched in his hand. He sniffs back his tears, his other hand lovingly stroking her back.
"Thank you, baby," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "Your book is the best Father's Day gift I've ever gotten."
"I love you, Daddy," she whispers.
"I love you too," he coos, before he pulls back to look at her. "So, will you tell me why you and Mommy wear these pretty dresses?"
The child shares a look with Donna, then covers her mouth with her hands to stifle a giggle.
"Do I have to guess?" Harvey smirks.
Behind him, Donna laughs.
He tilts his head and cocks an eyebrow at her, still smirking.
"She really just wanted us to get all dolled up for you, Harvey," she says with a tender smile.
"I figured," he chuckles, then turns his attention back to his daughter. "You know what, Hazey?"
"What?" she asks shyly.
"You, me, and Mommy are going to be the best dressed people at this baseball game, all because of you."
•••
Donna, with a big smile on her face, captures the perfect end-of-day picture: Harvey in his finest Tom Ford, sprawled on the living room floor, Hazel, in her princess dress, snuggled contentedly on his chest, both fast asleep after a day filled with love and laughter.
Domestic bliss. The truest form of happiness, she realizes – and she's finally found it.