I'd been thinking about this for awhile now, but then I told K (DonnaSpecterCOO) about it and well, she convinced me to do it so it's mostly her fault. Beta'd by Heather and Sam; as always I love you both!

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the story we can tell another time

The first thing he feels isn't the cold, empty sheets next to him — a feeling that he's so accustomed to that it rarely registers. It's a light weight on his chest and something touching his cheek, then his forehead. Something small.

"Daddy, up," a little voice whispers with a giggle and Harvey opens his eyes, blinking twice as they focus on a face just inches from his own. She's smiling, brown eyes lighting up at the sight of him with messy red hair framing her cheeks. Her small hand rests on his own. "It's good morning time."

Harvey grins, glancing over at the empty bed next to him before redirecting his attention to the toddler sitting on his torso. She's clad in ballerina pajamas that he knows are a favorite and the upturn of her smirk reads playtime, so she's either been awake for ten minutes or an hour. Who knows.

"Where's Mommy?" He asks, leaving a tickle on her side.

Her chubby finger points to the opposite corner of the room, "Bafroom."

"Does she know that you're out of bed?"

The toddler nods, "We haved morning cuddles wif baby."

"Oh," Harvey chuckles, "Morning cuddles with Mommy are the best, huh?"

She grins (his grin, he thinks) but before his mind has time to acknowledge the word "baby", the bathroom door clicks open and Harvey turns his head toward the sound. His eyes meet hazel, taking in the sight of Donna as his gaze travels from her hair and her face, moving down to the white dress shirt (also his) hugging her frame. It's buttoned once at her breasts but open over the swell of her stomach. Baby. Cuddles with "Mommy" and "the baby".

Donna walks toward them with a hand low on her belly, watching Harvey watch her with a child on his chest. This moment — it feels too routinely domestic and too good to be true all at once.

"Did you wake Daddy up?"

Daddy. He's the father of the little redhead in front of him and the father of the baby growing inside of Donna. Donna. She's here, in his bedroom, in his shirt and they have a child together. By the looks of it, they'll soon have two children together.

"Don't act like this wasn't your doing," Harvey laughs easily, looking pointedly at their daughter.

"Yeah, well," Donna motions to her stomach as she sits down on the bed, "This was yours, pushing on my bladder."

The little girl climbs off of him then, immediately sinking into her mother's side and really, he can't blame the kid. He's wanted nothing more than to be by Donna's side for years. She looks down at the toddler and taps her nose with one finger, eliciting yet another giggle that he would move mountains to hear even one more time.

"Mmm," she winces.

"What?" Harvey asks, concern invading his tone as he props himself up on an elbow.

The hand that had touched their daughter's nose moves to Donna's stomach, "Baby's kicking."

"Are you in pain?"

"No, not really," she chuckles, shaking her head, "It's just uncomfortable, but I love that you ask. Every time."

He reaches for her then, hand replacing Donna's as it splays out on the smooth skin next to her belly button. The kicks seem to settle beneath his touch — either that or Harvey's too distracted by the two year old placing her own tiny hand on top of his to feel them, too.

"Baby, hi," she whispers, barely more than a baby herself and Harvey can't help but feel overwhelmed as he watches Donna run her hand through the hair of the miniature version of herself with his eyes, the feel of her stomach under his touch like a fading memory. A fading memory from twelve and a half years earlier.

—

Strawberries and whipped cream and tomatoes and babies with Donna fill his thoughts as Harvey's alarm blares, waking him abruptly. The early morning sky cast over Boston creeps in through the window and his eyes wander, meeting cold, empty sheets and a hotel room void of either redhead; both the one in his shirt and the little one in pink ballerina pajamas.

It takes Harvey a moment to find his bearings but then he realizes… he isn't panicking. It wasn't a nightmare. The sense of calm that washes over him feels eerie but the rational part of his brain that's still catching up to reality tells him that maybe he should have expected this. Between Marcus' impending divorce, Louis' eventual fatherhood, and ever blurring lines with Donna, Harvey's mind has been in overdrive for the past twenty-four hours. The dreams — they've happened before, though not like this and he's sure that they will happen again.

But still, Harvey can't shake an image that looks a lot like her and a little like him because maybe, just maybe it means something. Maybe it means that he wants more.

Maybe it was just a dream.

Maybe.

—

Thank you for reading! Comments and criticism are always welcome.