Spoilers/Timeline: General Series/Set in the future

A/N: Ok, giant warning, this is "give you cavities" sweet. Hopefully it doesn't throw it into OOC territory, but honestly the idea started writing itself in my head while I was trying to fall asleep and then when I woke up early this morning it wouldn't let me alone.

Disclaimer: Suits doesn't belong to me. Title taken from the Billy Currington song of the same name.

It's her ring that doesn't fit first.

She wakes up one day and it's a little too snug. She chalks it up to the insane heat they've been experiencing, loops it through one of her necklaces, and tucks it under her blouse.

The lower back pain is next. Sore and aching, she feels like she's just run a marathon.

Except Donna doesn't run marathons and yoga has her toned and flexible from years of practice.

It's what actually makes her seriously consider it as a possibility, but the thoughts are fleeting.

Possible because, well, her husband can't seem to keep his hands off her lately—the back of his car on the way to the work, their kitchen three nights running, and, as fucking cliche as it is, that one day in the copy room.

It's fleeting since, really, at her age what are the odds? And even if they're not as low as she suspects...

No, she can't let herself go there. It's something she'd dismissed from her—their—storyline years and years ago.

Before she'd even considered marrying him.

Hell, probably before he'd convinced her that he could let the mask slip, that they were worth with the risk.

It all sounds like sentimental bullshit to her now, but the truth is that they'd both been trying to hide from each other. From the reality of knowing they could challenge and support one another all at once, that they'd already let the other person in.

So four years later, yes, it sounds sappy and dumb yet she knows she can't argue with it.

Doesn't want to.

The confirmation comes though. Not in lateness or a test as one might expect, but in her sudden desire for a Mounds bar.

She hasn't had a Mounds since kindergarten when she decided coconut was evil and should have its own special place in hell with lima beans.

But one morning she wakes up and it's all she can think about. The creamy center and dark chocolate, the way it just melts...

She buys three from the vending machine at work and wonders how she's going to tell Harvey.

It doesn't take long before it comes to her. A few clicks of the mouse, some debate about what size, and everything's set.

It takes two weeks to get there.

She starts eating lunch with Rachel. She doesn't want to tip him off and she knows even if the younger woman suspects something she won't say anything.

When they're home, she puts on CNN so when she falls asleep on the couch he chalks it up to her disinterest in hearing the same story for the twelfth time and nothing else.

He's beginning to notice that she's not around as much and she can tell by the way his hair goes a little wild at the ends, how his tie seems just off center, that it's wearing on him.

She thinks of forgetting the plan, but the temptation of seeing him happily shocked for once in his life is too great. They know each other way too well for Christmas to ever lead to any huge surprises and the only time she can ever remember seeing surprised joy on his face was when she'd accepted the ring she'd told him she didn't need.

So she almost does a dance of joy when the little box shows up at her desk mid-morning one day. Unfortunately it's hand delivered by Mike, who's suddenly decided to revert to his overeager puppy stage.

He doesn't say anything though, just smiles and nods as he passes it to her.

She waits until he's collected Harvey for their eleven o'clock meeting and slips into the office. Her hands are shaking a little and for the first time it really feels real.

They're going to be parents.

Sucking in a breath, she carefully cuts open the box and lifts out the contents. She can't help but smile as she puts it on his desk, face down, the lettering shouting the news to the room.

And god dammit she will not cry.

Settling back at her desk, she busies herself with briefs that need to be filed and calls she needs to return. Trying to stay distracted apparently makes her work faster, or at least it seems that way, so by the time that it's time for lunch she's resorted her inbox and started reorganizing her desk, too.

She forces herself not to look up when he gets back from his meeting, instead focusing on the memo Louis dropped on her pile twenty minutes ago. Counting to fifteen in her head—when he'll have had time to toss aside his jacket, put a victory record on, and then make it over to his desk—she turns.

He's just stopped next to his chair, his hand full of papers hovering in mid-air. They drop to the desk soundlessly as he looks towards her, eyes full of question and then...

Laughter.

Full throated, deep and warming.

Even with the intercom off, she'd hear it and she grins as he lifts the tiny pinstriped jersey from the desk and quickly crosses the office.

And then he's tugging her up out of her seat, lips pressed to her cheek as he crushes her to him. He's murmuring against her, but for once she has no idea what he's saying because his teeth are scraping over her jaw and his hands are warm on the still tender part of her back.

Finally, he seems to come back to himself and pulls away, one arm still wrapped around her waist as he places the little jersey on the back of her chair.

The name Specter stares back at her and she sighs, leaning against him.

"How long?"

"They'll be here next April or thereabouts from my calculations. A doctor will be able to tell more accurately."

"I'd trust that you would know." He grins, cocky, proud, and she elbows him, rolling her eyes. "He'll be the best little pitcher New York has seen in years."

"What if she's the best pitcher in New York?"

"Well..." His eyes drift over her, smile growing as his hands settle low on her hips. "That works, too."