Archive of Our Own ^beta

The sun spilled through the half-open curtains, soft light stretching across the large windows at the end of their elegant bedroom. A gentle morning breeze drifted through the gap in the fabric, carrying the cool scent of dew and the faint rustle of leaves outside. The world beyond their home was quiet: no traffic, no distant city hum, only the faint chorus of birds waking with the dawn.

But it wasn’t the light that woke Donna.

It was a soft little babble beside her bed.

She opened her eyes to find a bright smile aimed right at her from the bassinet. Hugo was leaning over its edge, peeking at her with wide morning excitement. The moment he saw her awake, he squealed.

“Mama!”

One of the few words he could say—her favorite word in the world.

Donna smiled, still heavy with sleep, as Hugo reached for her with impatient little hands. He always did that, like he couldn’t stand waiting even three seconds to be held.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

She gently slipped out of Harvey’s sleeping embrace and lifted Hugo from the bassinet, settling him on her chest.

“Did you sleep well? Hmm? Trouble sleeping again? Is that why you’re here, munchkin? When did Daddy get you? I didn’t even notice,” she cooed to her eighteen-month-old, rubbing gentle circles on his back. He completely melted into her, his cheek pressed against her collarbone.

There had been a storm the night before—not loud enough to scare him, but enough to make him restless and agitated. At some point, Harvey must’ve heard the soft crying through the baby monitor on his nightstand. She’d been so tired she hadn’t even felt him leave the bed, but he must’ve gone to Hugo’s room, soothed him, and brought him back.

His bassinet was movable—Harvey insisted on that “for nights like these”—and clearly, last night had been one of them. Now it sat right beside their bed, close enough that Donna could hear Hugo breathe.

Harvey stirred at her side, and the instant Hugo heard him, he lifted his head, brightening, then predictably began wriggling his way across her with single minded determination towards his dad. His chubby hands reached for his father, and before Harvey could even open his eyes, a tiny finger poked him right in the nose.

A slow, sleepy smile tugged at Harvey's mouth. 

“Aw, morning to you too, buddy,” he murmured.

Hugo answered with an excited babble, a long string of sounds that ended in something vaguely shaped like “moh-nee.”

Harvey’s eyes snapped open fully. He turned to Donna, delighted.

“You hear that?” he whispered. “My baby’s clearly a genius.”

Donna laughed softly.

“He almost said ‘morning,’ Harvey. He’s not reciting Shakespeare.”

“Yet,” he muttered, completely serious, which only made her smile widen.

Hugo then scooted closer and rested his head on Harvey’s chest with a tiny, contented sigh. Harvey’s arm immediately came around both of them, wrapping them into the soft, sleepy cocoon of their morning.

Donna watched them, Hugo babbling into Harvey’s shirt, Harvey half awake but already absorbed in their son, and her heart swelled the way it always did on mornings like this.

A moment later, Hugo shifted again, fully committed to climb over Harvey’s shoulder like it was a mountain.

“Donna,” Harvey groaned, “your son is trying to escape.”

“Oh, now he’s my son?” she asked, amused.

“He becomes yours when he’s climbing me like Everest at seven in the morning.”

She raised a brow. “Funny. He only does that when he’s with you.”

Harvey shot her a playful glare.

“He would never dare do that to you. He’s completely taken with you.”

He adjusted Hugo in his arms with a tired sigh.

“Well… who can I blame? Like father, like son, huh, champ? Both of us wrapped around Mama’s fingers.”

He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Donna’s lips.

“Morning,” he whispered.

He leaned in again, intending to deepen the kiss—slow, lingering, the kind that always made Donna forget everything else.

But he barely brushed her lips before Hugo let out a loud, indignant squeal and shoved a tiny hand between their faces, smacking Harvey’s cheek.

Donna burst out laughing.

Harvey blinked in defeat.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” he sighed. “Your mom’s attention is off-limits unless you approve. Tough crowd.”

Hugo babbled proudly, like he’d won something.

Harvey laughed dramatically.

“All right. I give up. Breakfast for the tiny dictator. How about pancakes? And we’ll make some for Mama too?”

He kissed Hugo’s head, then leaned in for one last quick kiss from Donna.

“Rain check,” he murmured.

Donna eased back onto the bed, relaxing as the familiar sounds from downstairs floated up to her.

Life since they left New York had been chaotic and peaceful at the same time. It felt like sitting under a tree waiting for a storm to pass—watching raindrops glitter on the leaves and a rainbow begin to form. Warm. Safe.

Pregnancy had been a long, anxious journey, but the moment Hugo arrived, everything made sense.

It was strange, really. Having him in their lives didn’t feel any different whether it happened ten years ago or now. Because the minute he was placed in her arms, everything that had happened between her and Harvey suddenly felt worth it. Every moment. Every mistake. Every heartbreak.

It all led to him.

To Hugo, to their family, to everything she had ever wanted.

The little boy who had become the center of their world.

His first name was, in a way, a tribute to Gordon. Donna hadn’t been opposed to naming him after his grandfather, but Harvey insisted he wanted their son to carry his own identity, not his father’s weight.

“I want our son to be his own person,” he’d said.

She liked the idea of keeping his initials the same as Harvey’s: H.R.S. She’d even joked about how Harvey had everything monogrammed anyway. So she suggested Hugo, and they both loved it instantly.

Surprisingly, the middle name had been Harvey’s idea.

“What about Reid?” he’d said. “It means ‘red.’ If his initials match mine, he could still carry a piece of his mom everywhere. Plus, it sounds fitting. And we both have R as our middle names.”

And just like that, Hugo Reid Specter had his full name before she was even four months along.

Just then, Harvey poked his head into the room, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“Hey, are you coming down or what?”

The moment he spotted her, he smirked.

“I wore you out last night, didn’t I?” he teased, wearing the most infuriatingly smug expression.

“Don’t get too cocky, mister. I think it’s the other way around.” She sashayed toward him, loving the way his eyes darkened instantly.

He grabbed her waist and pulled her flush against him, his voice dropping low.

“Hmm… how many times was it? Three? Four?”

Her hands naturally slid up around his neck, her body moving with him like it always did.

“Maybe we need a rematch… you know, for scientific accuracy.” She gave him a long, slow kiss, deep enough to make him chase it when she pulled away too soon, ignoring his quiet protest.

But halfway through her satisfied smile, she went still, eyes widening in disbelief.

“Wait. You left him alone downstairs in his high chair with his breakfast?!”

Harvey opened his mouth, but Donna was already sprinting down the stairs.

“I swear, Harvey. One of these days you’re going to remember that blueberries and sticky pancakes and an eighteen month old make the perfect disaster combo. And you are scrubbing the grout this time!”

The sight waiting for her was unbelievable.

Hugo sat in his high chair, smug as a tiny king perched on a throne of chaos.

There was honey on the floor.

Honey on the tray.

Honey smeared across his cheeks and hands.

And the blueberries.

Blueberries had somehow made it everywhere within baby-throwing distance.

Squished blueberries on the floor.

Smashed ones stuck to the legs of the high chair.

A streak across the lower cabinet door.

And—Donna blinked— one lonely blueberry splattered halfway up the upper cabinet like it had been launched.

She stood there, biting back a laugh. 

“How did he even get the blueberries to go there?” Harvey sputtered as he came up beside her, genuinely horrified.

Donna lifted the coffee cup Harvey prepared for her from the counter and smiled sweetly at him.

“That’s for his daddy to figure out. Because Mommy has yoga class with Aunt Rachel in thirty minutes, and she cannot be late.”

She kissed her sticky toddler on the cheek, stepped carefully around fallen blueberry casualties, and headed for the door.

“Make sure everything’s clean when I get back,” she called. “That includes the cabinets, Harvey. Love you, bye!”

Harvey exhaled like the weight of the world had landed squarely on him.

Then he turned to his son.

Hugo stared back with the same very pleased-with-himself Specter look Donna had just walked out on.

“Well,” Harvey sighed, hands on his hips, “looks like it’s boys' time, buddy. And you’re gonna help me clean, okay?”

Hugo laughed directly in his face.

Harvey pointed at the splattered blueberry on the cabinet like it was evidence in a murder trial.

“I’ve gotta admire your aim, though. You’re gonna make a great pitcher like Daddy, yeah?”

Hugo let out a delighted “baaa!” and clapped hard enough to send another messy little drop of syrup flying onto the tile.

Harvey shut his eyes.

“Okay. Step one: don’t touch anything else.”

He opened one eye, surveying the blueberry crime scene.

“Step two: seriously, how did you get blueberries up there?”

Hugo offered zero answers — just blew a tiny raspberry and then let out another triumphant laugh.

Later that morning, when Donna returned from yoga, she dropped a paper bag on the counter beside Harvey and gave him a quick kiss.

“For surviving the blueberry massacre,” she said.

He opened the bag, eyes lighting up.

“A warm bagel? With cream cheese? You went to that place you like.”

“To the place you like,” she corrected, stepping closer and brushing her fingers along his arm.

He peeked inside, lips twitching.

“From Keller’s? You walked past two closer places.”

“Yeah, well,” she shrugged, “they don’t toast it right. And you get cranky when your bagel falls apart.”

“I do not get cranky.”

She gave him a look.

“…Fine. I get slightly irritated,” he conceded, already taking a bite.

Donna leaned in enough to bump his shoulder.

“Consider it a reward for keeping our house standing while I was gone.”

Harvey nodded toward Hugo, who was in his high chair, happily drumming a spoon on the tray like he was scoring a soundtrack.

“And if I manage the afternoon shift without further casualties,” he asked, “do I earn dessert?”

Donna stepped closer, swiping a tiny crumb from the corner of his lip with her thumb.

“Depends,” she murmured. “On how committed you are to earning it.”

Harvey blinked, then grinned like he’d just won something.

“I’m a very dedicated man.”

“I’ve noticed,” she said, stealing a small piece of the bagel and popping it into her mouth before walking toward her son.

“Now finish that before you start negotiating again.”

Harvey watched her go, shaking his head.

“That was definitely a bribe.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” she tossed back over her shoulder.

Donna reached Hugo and her voice softened instantly.

“And how’s my little master of mischief?” she cooed, her baby practically vibrating the moment he saw her. “Were you a good boy for Daddy? Yes you were, of course you were.”

Behind her, she heard Harvey snort.

Donna was curled up on the terrace with a book and a cup of tea when a burst of laughter from the yard made her look up. Her boys were playing on the grass in the early evening light.

She watched them for a long moment, warmth blooming in her chest.

Their Seattle home still felt like a small miracle sometimes — the wide garden stretching toward the lake, the quiet that wrapped itself around their days, the sense of peace she never had in Manhattan.

It took them a while to find it, but the moment she and Harvey stepped inside for the first time, something in her settled.

This was theirs. This was home.

Funny, she thought, how different he was now from the man she first met. The Donna who once left him to work for Louis wouldn’t believe her eyes if she saw him now.

This version of Harvey.

The one she always sensed beneath all that armor, behind the years of loss and pressure he’d carried for so long, the man she hoped would surface if life ever gave him the room to breathe.

He still had insecurities. So did she. Everyone did.

But this Harvey had learned how to speak about them. He trusted her enough to hand her his fears instead of hiding them. He let her in rather than shutting her out.

This Harvey confided in her with the certainty of someone who finally understood he would never have to face anything alone again.

Not with her. Not with their son.

And she loved him for it, more deeply than she ever expected to love anyone.

Another sharp burst of laughter pulled her out of her thoughts.

She turned just in time to see Hugo running with all the strength his little legs could manage, trying to escape the man chasing him. In one hand he clutched a tiny baseball; in the other, Harvey’s glasses — both trophies he clearly believed he’d earned.

Harvey jogged behind him, pretending to miss every grab. Hugo shrieked in delight and looked over his shoulder with a grin that was pure Specter mischief.

His blond hair, only a shade lighter than Harvey’s childhood color, bounced wildly with each step. The hazel eyes were hers, but the rest belonged entirely to Harvey Specter.

She didn’t mind that at all. There was something indescribably sweet about seeing the face she loved most reflected in the child they made together.

Hugo pushed forward with the fierce determination only toddlers had, and Donna smiled — right until his foot caught on the edge of the grass.

Her heart jolted.

It wasn’t dramatic, just one of the small stumbles toddlers made a hundred times a day, but instinct always reacted first. For a split second, fear squeezed out every other thought.

Before she could move, Harvey was there.

He caught Hugo before he even tipped forward, one hand steady around his middle, lifting him with the easy confidence of someone who knew exactly how to hold their world together. The whole thing happened in a second, maybe less, but it was enough to melt the worry that had flared in her chest.

Hugo burst into laughter again, thrilled by the near-disaster he didn’t understand, and Harvey swung him up into his arms as if it were all part of the game.

“Gotcha,” Harvey announced with mock triumph.

Hugo shrieked with delight, kicking and thumping his tiny fists against Harvey’s back like the happiest hostage alive.

Donna exhaled slowly. The heaviness in her chest softened into something warm.

He handled their son the same way he handled everything that mattered: with confidence, instinct, and a steadiness that made her feel safe in ways she never let herself feel before.

Her boys.

Hugo spotted her the moment she stood from the terrace.

“Mama!” he squealed, reaching both arms out toward her like she was his only salvation.

Donna stepped outside, laughing as the breeze lifted her hair.

“Mama is on Daddy’s side, bud,” Harvey announced, nuzzling their son’s cheek. “Oh, you’re in trouble now. Daddy kiss ambush incoming.”

He peppered Hugo’s cheeks with quick kisses until the boy burst into giggles again.

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Donna crossed her arms and leaned toward her son. “Baby, I’ll be on your side if you give Mama a kiss.”

“Ha! Mr. Hugo Specter is not available at the moment,” Harvey protested, as Hugo immediately reached for her with a decisive babble that definitely counted as yes.

With one arm still occupied by their baby, Harvey wrapped the other around her waist, pulling her close from the side.

“And would you be on my side if I give you a kiss?” he spoke softly, smug and shameless.

She raised an eyebrow.

“Hmm. I’m not sure. Whoever gives me the better one.”

Harvey let Hugo wiggle his way toward her, and Donna smiled, brushing her forehead gently to her son’s as he babbled something only he understood.

With his now free arm, Harvey hugged her fully from the side, warm and close.

“I could show you how good I kiss tonight… if you’re up for it,” he whispered into her ear, his mouth curved.

She turned and immediately found herself nose to nose with him.

“Really? In front of an almost two year old?”

He grinned and playfully nipped at her neck.

“Hey, the two year old is literally the result of my good kisses.”

“Oh my god, you’re ridiculous.”

“Come on, Hugo,” she said, starting toward the house. “Let’s get inside before your daddy’s ego gets too big to fit.”

“Something’s big, all right,” Harvey muttered under his breath.

“I heard that.”

“You were meant to.”

She turned just enough to catch his eyes, warm and dark and full of that familiar promise that still made her stomach flip. Donna rolled her eyes and hugged Hugo a little closer, pretending she wasn’t affected. She was blushing, and he noticed. He always did. His smile curved slowly, knowing exactly what he’d done, and far too proud of himself for it.

But she felt it too — that spark that never went away.

Not through marriage, not through late nights with a fussy baby, not through the chaos of their new life.

Especially not when he looked at her like that.

Harvey jogged ahead to open the glass door wider for them, tossing her a look over his shoulder that was nothing short of sinful.

“Come on, Mrs. Specter,” he said, low enough for only her to hear. “Don’t blush too hard. We still have a toddler in the room.”

She scoffed as she stepped past him.

“Please. If I’m blushing, it’s only because you think you’re smooth.”

He leaned down to her ear again, his breath warm against her skin.

“Oh, I know I am.”

And just like that, she felt that stupid blush deepen again.

“So, what would you like for dinner, baby?” Donna asked lightly, bouncing Hugo on her hip as she nudged the fridge door closed.

She turned her head just in time to catch Harvey raising an eyebrow at her.

“Anything you want to make, sugar,” he said with a wink, knowing full well he wasn’t the ‘baby’ she meant.

Donna didn’t miss a beat.

“Relax. You’re only ‘baby’ when you’re sick or pathetic, so choose wisely.”

Harvey clutched his chest dramatically but she walked right past him.

“The usual, Mommy,” he said, pitching his voice higher, clearly impersonating their son. “Since I still can’t talk much, you can try to feed me beans I hate and watch me throw them all over the floor.”

Donna rolled her eyes, amused and exasperated all at once.

“Haha. Very funny. Daddy thinks he’s a comedian,” she muttered to Hugo, who was far too busy trying to steal the spatula from her hand to care.

Harvey wandered over, sliding behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist as if she didn’t have a pan of simmering pasta sauce in front of her and a toddler on her hip.

“I am. I remember last night, you were laughing so hard you were crying,” he said.

“That was after my third glass of wine,” she reminded him. “You got me so drunk.”

“That is a vile accusation, Donna Specter.” His breath brushed her ear, warm and unhelpfully seductive. “And in my defense, you enjoyed me getting you drunk. If I remember correctly, laughing wasn’t the only thing that ended with you—” She elbowed him sharply.

“Harvey, tiny ears!” she hissed, nodding at their son.

“Well, I’d be mindful if the tiny ears cared more about us than whatever’s happening in that pan,” he shot back.

Donna gave him a murderous look.

“I would finish this a lot sooner if you clingy father and son duo would give me a little space.”

Harvey just laughed, loud and unapologetic, then pressed a kiss to her cheek before gently prying Hugo from her arms.

“Alright, champ,” he said, hoisting their toddler with practiced ease. “You heard the boss. Time for dinner. And this time, no showing off your ‘art skills.’”

Donna smirked.

“Glad you know who the boss is.”

Harvey leaned in with a pointed cough.

“Doesn’t matter if I’m under or—”
Another cough.
“—you’re under me. I’m good as long as you’re there.”

She choked on her own laugh.

“God, you’re an idiot.”

“A lovable one,” he said, flashing that signature grin — the one that always managed to disarm her. His eyes crinkled, the exact kind of trouble she married.

She shook her head, still smiling as she plated the pasta: two adult portions and one tiny plate, which Harvey took to chop into toddler-friendly bits.

“Wow, Donna… this is amazing,” Harvey said after his first bite, completely sincere.

“Eat up.”

She leaned down, hand on his shoulder, whispering only for him, “You’ll need all the energy you can get tonight after all that big talk you’ve been giving me.”

Harvey nearly inhaled his food.

Donna shot him a wicked grin. Two could play this game… and judging by the way he almost choked, she already had the upper hand.

They settled in the living room after dinner. Donna sat inside the playpen with Hugo, legs crossed, the soft mat sinking slightly under their combined weight. His toys were scattered everywhere, but he was perfectly content, babbling to himself while inspecting each one like a tiny CEO doing quality control.

Harvey sat on the sofa behind them, supposedly watching TV, though Donna knew better. His attention flicked to the screen only when he remembered it was on.

“He really seems to like this one in particular,” she said, watching Hugo grip a small green car with unusual dedication. “He usually gets bored after five seconds, but he’s been playing with this for almost ten minutes.”

Harvey leaned forward, eyebrows raised.

“Was it the one Mike got him for Christmas?”

“No, that was the firetruck with the tiny firemen we had to confiscate because someone kept trying to eat them.” She lifted the green Mustang. “This one… I think Louis got him.”

Harvey pushed himself off the sofa and climbed into the playpen, settling beside her with absolutely no regard for personal space. His arm curved around her waist as he took the car from her hand.

“That one’s from Samantha,” he corrected. “Remember that road trip I took her on? I was driving the green Mustang. Good to know she kept at least one good memory from that.”

Donna smirked.

“And look at that. Our boy has taste.”

Harvey puffed his chest a little.

“Not even two yet and already better than his uncle Mike.”

“Hey, don’t attack the pup,” she laughed. “He’s not here to defend himself.”

Harvey ignored her and leaned closer to Hugo.

“How about we take a ride in the Mustang tomorrow, Hugo? Daddy’ll take you out for ice cream.”

At the sound of his name, Hugo’s head snapped up. He unleashed a dramatic stream of babble that absolutely sounded like enthusiastic agreement.

Donna raised a brow and smiled at her son.

“Yep. No idea what you said, but you’re still supportive as always.”

She lifted him into her lap and pressed her nose softly to his cheek.

“He’s growing up so fast,” she whispered, drawing him close.

Hugo responded with a happy tumble of babble and patted her cheek with his small hand, as if agreeing with her.

That was when Harvey looked at them — really looked — his expression shifting into something soft and unguarded.

“I know,” he murmured. “Feels like yesterday you told me you were pregnant. And now…” He shook his head slowly. “I can’t imagine a life without either of you.”

Donna nudged him with her shoulder.

“Look who’s turning into a sap.”

He sent her a half annoyed, half fond look.

“I meant it, Donna. When I’m with you, my chips are always up. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner to do this with. Sometimes I still can’t believe this is my life. That you’re mine. That he’s mine.”

Her chest tightened, because it was exactly what she’d been thinking earlier that morning.

“We are where we’re meant to be, Harvey,” she whispered.

Harvey leaned in, slow and warm, his breath brushing her lips, when Hugo suddenly lifted his head and let out a soft little “da?” — a tiny sound filled with curiosity and the need to be noticed.

He turned toward Harvey with a seriousness only babies could pull off, then gently placed his small hand on his father’s cheek. Not stopping him. Not pushing him away. Just a soft, earnest touch.

As if he thought his dad was sad and needed comforting.

Donna’s chest tightened, laughter catching in her throat.

Harvey blinked, caught somewhere between touched and amused.

“Hey, buddy,” he whispered. He kissed the tiny hand and leaned into it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

But Hugo wasn’t done.

Right after consoling his father, he twisted back toward Donna, grabbed her face with both hands, and planted a very wet, very proud kiss on her cheek, complete with a dramatic “mwah!” sound only he could make, marking his territory like the little menace he was.

Donna couldn't hold back a laugh as she pressed a kiss to his cheek in return.

“Thank you, baby. I love you too,” she whispered to him.

Harvey groaned dramatically.

“Unbelievable. First he comforts me, then he steals my girl.”

Hugo made a triumphant little noise, absolutely delighted with himself.

Donna raised a brow.

“Well… he’s winning so far. Step it up, Harvey. Your competition is eighteen months old.”

Harvey’s eyes narrowed with playful challenge.

“Oh, you want equal treatment?”

“Prove you deserve it,” she teased.

He didn’t need to be told twice.

With one hand braced on Hugo’s back, he leaned in and kissed her — gentle but undeniably claiming, a soft press of lips that made her smile against his.

Harvey pulled back with a victorious smirk.

“Now we’re even.”

Hugo gasped in Donna’s arms, as if scandalized by what he’d witnessed, then let out a bubbling laugh like the whole display was staged purely for his entertainment.

Donna leaned in again, just enough to murmur against Harvey’s mouth,

“See? Now he thinks you’re the funny one.”

“Good. Someone in this family should respect me.”

Donna snorted.

“Oh please.”

Hugo blabbed loudly in agreement, the perfect echo of her sass.

Donna checked each lock and dimmed each light on her way upstairs, her mind pleasantly hazy from the long day. She was heading toward Hugo’s room to peek in on her boys when the door opened and Harvey stepped out — looking far too pleased with himself for someone who was supposed to be putting a toddler to bed.

“He slept without a fuss then, I presume?” Her voice warm with amusement.

Most nights it was only Donna who could get him to sleep, much to Harvey’s dismay.

Their son adored his dad — preferred him as his playmate, his partner in crime, and his tiny bodyguard whenever they went outside, but bedtime was a Mama only privilege. Which explained the look on his father’s face now: smug. Painfully smug. One successful bedtime and the man suddenly thought he was Father of the Year.

“Out like a light,” Harvey announced proudly. “Told him one of my legendary baseball stories. He passed out halfway through, but I’ll take the win.”

Donna lifted a brow, smiling as she walked past him into their bedroom.

“You’re still dead set on getting him to play baseball, huh?”

Harvey followed her in, placing the baby monitor on the nightstand before closing the distance between them in two easy strides.

“Oomph,” she muttered when his chest bumped into her back. “Subtle.”

She shot him a look in the mirror while removing her earrings. “You know, he had your expression today. That exact look you get when your ego’s through the roof. It’s adorable. And hilarious.”

“Oh, you love it when I do that,” he murmured, kissing a warm trail down her spine and to the curve of her neck. “And yes, dear, did you see his aim? He’s only eighteen months old. If he wants to play, I’m all in. Anything he wants.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” she sighed, leaning into him just a little — the kind of small surrender that always sent a quiet rush through him.

She turned in his arms, looping hers around his neck, the movement easy and familiar—something they’d done a thousand times without thinking.

“Maybe it’d be more fun if he had someone to play with?”

“He already has me,” Harvey said indignantly, nudging her hip with a mock-offended little bump. It only made her laugh.

“No, silly.” She tightened her arms around him. “I mean a sibling.”

Harvey froze, then eased back just enough to see her face clearly.“Donna… are you—”

“Pregnant, with all the alcohol I consumed this past week? No, Harvey,” she teased, eyes softening as she held his gaze. “But I could be. I went to see Dr. Watson last week. She said we could try if we want to. It’s not a guarantee, but it’s not impossible.”

Harvey’s brows knit together, worry overtaking everything else.

“But would you be okay going through it again? I mean… if you want it, I’m in. Completely. But I don’t want you risking anything. Nothing is worth losing what we already have.”

“I know, Harvey.” She cupped his jaw, thumb brushing his cheek. “I want to try. I think I’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

He searched her eyes again.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, baby, I’m sure,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him softly. “Plus… we made such a cute baby. It wouldn’t hurt to have another around.”

Donna’s smile widened as she teased, “Maybe this time you’d get a daddy’s girl. We need a little balance in this family, mister…or if we have another boy, oh God help me with three possessive Specter boys.”

Harvey huffed out a laugh, shaking his head.

“Help you? I’m already getting body checked by one baby Specter for a hug. Give me another boy and I’ll be drafting a contract to secure my kissing privileges.”

His expression shifted instantly, concern melting into mischief.

“Well then,” he murmured, “we should get started. I am anything but a lazy worker, Mrs. Specter. I take my duties very seriously.”

Donna broke into laughter, her arms tightening around him.

“Oh, I know,” she teased. “I’ve seen your performance reviews.”

“More like experienced the spectacular performances.”

Harvey's laugh deepened into something low and knowing, warm against her skin, and then he didn’t waste another second.

He swept her up like she weighed nothing, kissed her hard enough to pull a startled laugh from her throat, and carried her straight toward the bathroom.

Harvey barely got the bathroom door shut before her back met it with a soft thud.

She gasped, and he moved in immediately, his body crowding hers like waiting any longer would’ve been impossible.

“So impatient,” she murmured, lips brushing his.

Her fingers curled into the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer because she needed him just as much.

“You started it,” he said, voice low against her mouth. His hands slid to her hips, thumbs brushing bare skin as he drew her in.

Donna drew a sharp breath when he lifted her slightly, pressing her more firmly against the door.

“You carried me in here,” she shot back, nose grazing his. “Seems like you had a plan.”

“You skipped our morning ritual,” he murmured against her skin, his lips brushing the edge of her throat. “You have no idea how much I wanted you all day.”

He kissed along her jaw, words brushing her skin.

“Several plans, actually.”

Before she could retort, he dipped lower and found the spot beneath her ear that always melted her.

A quiet sound escaped her, her fingers curling instinctively in his shirt, pulling him closer.

“You’re wearing too many layers,” she spoke softly when his hands settled at her waist.

“Then take them off.”

She didn’t hesitate. In one motion she tugged his shirt over his head, and he lifted hers in return, his touch sure and wanting.

Heat rushed between them.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered, voice rough from holding back all day.

“Oh, I think I do.” She slipped her fingers into his hair with a teasing pull. “And I like it.”

His forehead rested against hers for a heartbeat, their breaths mixing.

“Door or shower?” he murmured, mouth grazing hers.

Donna barely parted her lips to answer.

Harvey slid a hand up her side and pulled her flush against him, letting her feel exactly how long he’d been waiting for this.

Her knees softened; her hands tightened on his shoulders as desire hummed through her body.

Whatever clever comeback she’d been forming disappeared.

He lowered his mouth down to the curve of her breast, deliberate and wanting, and the rest of the world fell away until all she felt was him: his body against hers, the heat between them, and the promise in every touch.