Don't Freak Out

Category: Romance/Fluff

Summary: Harvey receives a phone call from Donna asking him to come straight home, and the situation he finds her in is definitely not what he was expecting.

AN: I randomly started writing this yesterday while I was taking a quick break from Watership Down. It's a bit of silly fun, set just after Donna and Harvey move to Seattle. Also I can vouch, what happens to Donna has happened to me on several occasions haha... but no spoilers ;)

"Don't freak out."

That's the first thing Harvey hears when he answers Donna's call. Three simple words that have never, in the history of ever, encouraged the receiver of them to remain calm. He can already feel his palms clamming up, along with a knot of uncertainty winding in his stomach. "What happened?"

"Nothing, it's just... I can't—"

There's a pause.

"Can you come home?"

The lid on his laptop closes sharply, and he stands collecting his keys and wallet. She'd wanted to take a few extra days off after their honeymoon to get their new apartment sorted, unpack boxes, do some painting and general household things. He'd joked about her waiting for him to do the heavy lifting, but now it's the first place his mind goes. "Are you okay, you didn't hurt yourself?" He pushes out of his office door, the stretch of silence unsettling. "Donna?"

"Sorry, what?"

"Are you all right?" he repeats his concern, signalling across to Mike that he's going out.

"Uh... yeah, I'm fine."

She doesn't sound convincing, and he wishes he could do her 'Donna' trick, figure out what the hell is going on, but he'll have to rely on getting to her instead, suddenly remembering he's in Seattle, not NYC, and he can't just burst outside to hail a cab. He needs his phone and quickly tries to reassure her. "I'm on my way, okay? Twenty minutes tops."

"Mm-hmm."

She disconnects the line, and he hits the speed-dial for the taxi service she'd programmed in. It's a temporary measure, until he decides on hiring a driver or getting his own vehicle, but he's just grateful he doesn't have to screw around with some app to get where she is. He needs a no hassle ride, feeling anxious enough as it is, and when the car arrives he clambers inside, reeling off directions to their new place.

It's mid-afternoon, so the traffic isn't at peak, and they arrive faster than he ever could have crossed town in New York. Not that the comparison is much use as he takes the stairs up two at a time to the entrance, breaking into a light jog through the lobby.

The elevator ride is the longest part of the journey, and he fumbles with his key at the door, calling out his wife's name as he pushes inside. "Donna?"

"In here."

He can tell she's close and rounds the corner, finding her standing in the center of the open-space living area. She's facing away from him, arms gripped tightly around her body, and he dumps his keys on the counter, striding towards her with a frown. "What's—"

"Up there." She points, moving back from the spot she's been rooted to for an hour, bumping into his chest with a shudder.

His palms close at her elbows, making sure she's steady before glancing to where she's motioning. His eyes fall on a furry, thick-legged spider stretched across the wall, the animal seemingly frozen in a standoff with his wife.

He blinks at it.

Then blinks at Donna.

"You're kidding me, right?"

She jabs him, not hard, but enough to let him know she's being completely serious. "Look at it, Harvey, it's freaking huge. You really want that... thing, crawling all over us while we're sleeping?"

He feels her tremble and realizes she isn't putting it on, but he's too busy being swamped by relief to absorb her fear. A spider he can deal with, and his panic morphs into amusement, a low chuckle rumbling in his throat. "Me?" he smirks. "So, I'm getting rid of it, am I?"

"Why else would I have called you?" she asks flatly, not appreciating his lax tone.

"I don't know..." he shrugs, "you told me not to freak out, I assumed there was something actually wrong."

She risks shifting her full attention away from the creature, turning to poke him in the chest. "Firstly, I was telling myself not to freak out, and in case you missed the devil spawn clinging to our wall, there is something wrong."

"Okay, all right," he gives in to a deep laugh, suspecting he'll pay for it later, but he tries to redeem himself, pressing a kiss to her furrowed brow. "I'll take care of it."

He drops his palm, giving her elbow a squeeze, not sure how he's going to remove the critter. She might be over dramatizing with the whole 'Spawn of Satan' thing, but it is big, or at least larger than any spider he's encountered in New York.

He enters the kitchen, feeling a whoosh of air breeze by him, and he frowns at Donna's retreating form. "Where are you going?"

"Into the bedroom, and Harvey—" she fixes him with a deadpan expression. "If you lose it, we're moving."

He fights the smile threatening to spill onto his lips.

Never in his wildest dreams did he ever think he'd see his wife afraid of something so... cliché, but as he goes in search of a tupperware container, he resolves to stop teasing her about it. She's clearly upset, and when he finds what he's looking for, taking the tub over to the far wall, he falters himself.

It seems bigger than the last time he looked, little fangs and beady eyes staring him down, but he can't exactly bail out now, and takes a deep breath. "Just remember, I'm saving you from a blow torch, buddy," he jokes, stretching up and covering the spider with the plastic bowl.

The lid slides across the bottom easily, trapping the critter inside, and he moves quickly to get his keys.

He steps back into the apartment, clutching the empty tupperware container in his hand. He'd safely released the spider back into the wild (the nearest patch of grass he could find) but Donna still hasn't surfaced, and he deposits the bowl and keys on the counter, shuffling his way through into their bedroom.

He finds her sitting at the edge of the mattress, her knees pulled up to her chest with a sheepish frown tugging the corners of her mouth.

"Is it gone?"

He nods, giving her a soft smile. "It is."

"You sure?" she asks skeptically.

He tilts his head, raising an eyebrow, and she uncurls her legs. He wouldn't lie, leading embarrassment to wash over her fear as she stands up. There are few things that rattle her but due to an unfortunate mishap as a child (accidentally being locked in a closet with a giant spider) she hasn't been able to go near an arachnid without turning into a quivering mess.

He steps closer, taking in her flushed cheeks and when she tries to move around him, he immediately feels bad for making light of the situation. He stops her, his hand sliding up through her hair and gently cupping her face. "You okay?"

She leans into his touch with a sigh. Now she's not staring into eight eyes of imminent doom, she can recall the worry that had been present in his voice when he'd first walked through the door. She hadn't meant to scare him and bites down over her lip. "I am... I'm sorry. I know it's stupid—"

"Hey," he drops his palm to her shoulder, not accepting the apology because she has nothing to be sorry for. She's one of the strongest, most capable people he knows, but it doesn't matter why she'd called. There isn't a reason in the world he'd ever be annoyed or mad at her for coming to him, least of all when she's upset. "I would've come home for anything, you know that, right?"

She does.

There's not an ounce of doubt resting behind his gaze, and she breathes easier, a smile ghosting her. "Anything?"

It takes him a second to catch on, but when her nails rake down the length of his tie, his hands slip down, caving against the feel of her body as she presses against him.

"Anything," he gleams, sinking a kiss over her lips to prove it. She'd kill him if he ever revealed the truth to Mike, so he may as well take advantage of the time while he's thinking up a believable excuse.

"You need me to check for bed bugs?" he grins the suggestion against her mouth, a groan escaping when she cups his trousers in retaliation.

He's definitely in trouble.

And looking forward to each and every second of his reprimand.