AN: If Suits ever gave us Darvey as parents, here are some small moments I would love to occur.

i.

"How about Jonathan?"

"I'm not having a son who can easily go by John. Next."

"Spencer is nice."

"Spencer Specter? Alliteration is total no."

"Okay fine, what names do you like?"

Donna speculates for a moment. "Edgar. From King Lear."

Harvey makes a disgusted face. "Shakespeare? Ugh, no. Next."

"Your loss." She shrugs. "Alright, I think you'll like this one—Elias. It's simple, classy."

"One of our biggest opponents is named Elias. Definite veto."

Donna falls quiet for a moment, taking in the mundanity of it all. She had never fully imagined that this is where her life would take her: debating baby names with her former boss turned coworker and husband. They know arguments and banter like the back of their hands, one aspect of their relationship that has never quite waned. But they also know how their arguments used to be: fraught with anger and bitten back feelings and certain words always guarded, never uttered. Now, here they are, squabbling over what goes best with Specter. It's a strange, welcomed reality, one never truly anticipated but one always wanted. Donna feels herself break out into a small smile.

"What?" He asks softly, never accusatory.

"Sometimes I can't believe this is happening," she admits.

"This?"

"Us. Together. Having a child." Her smile only widens. "I've never been happier."

His dimples deepen and he leans forward, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. "Me too."

He then falls into his own introspective moment, his face adopting a serious look until there's a spark, a light in his eyes. He looks up through his eyelashes, considering, his mouth opening and then pausing.

"Harvey?" she asks, probing.

"How about…" he takes another pause. "How about Gordon?"

"Oh, Harvey," she murmurs and brings her hand to hold his. "I think that's perfect."

"Really?" he asks, almost nervously.

"Yes. One hundred percent yes."

"He really would have loved to see us together, Donna." Harvey looks at her with such adoration, she almost needs to close her eyes. "And I know he would have loved our son."

"He would've," she agrees and then pauses, before asking: "And for a middle name?"

Harvey doesn't even have to consider. "Michael."

She smiles at the sentimentality, briefly picturing their friend's reaction when he learns of his godson's name. "Gordon Michael Specter. I can't wait to meet him."

His hand falls on her growing stomach. "Only three more months."

ii.

"It's almost… overwhelming."

She looks at him with mirth and wonder, her gaze drifting from him down to their newborn son, peacefully asleep in his father's arms. "What do you mean?"

"To love someone so much so quickly," Harvey says, his voice a near whisper. "He's only been in this world for an hour, and I already can't put him down."

"He's lucky to have you as his father," Donna says, her heart almost hurting with the amount of love she feels for her husband and their new addition.

Harvey looks at her with an expression close to surprise, his eyes clouded. "You think?"

Donna slides over in her hospital bed to make room for him. He sits down next to her and she brushes a kiss to his temple. "So, so, so lucky. You're going to be such an amazing dad."

"And you're going to be the best mom," Harvey continues.

"Well, we already knew that," she says with a laugh, running her thumb over her baby's forehead.

Harvey fondly rolls his eyes.

"Do you think he's going to be like us?" Harvey asks. "Work in law?"

"Possibly," Donna muses. "But a part of me hopes he'll be something else."

"Point guard for the Knicks."

"President of the United States."

"New York's best closer…"

Donna cocks her head. "Better than you?"

"…for the Yankees." Harvey finishes.

She laughs at that. Her sharp laugh soon quells into a soft gasp as she feels the infant wrap his small hand around her index finger. His eyelids flutter open, revealing warm hazel eyes, and she swears he's smiling in the way an hour old baby could. She can already see hints of herself and Harvey in their son, and it makes her fall in love even more.

"We can't wait to see what you'll do, Gordon," she murmurs.

They move into a hushed lull, listening to Gordon's quiet breaths, simply taking in the moment. It's a new chapter for them to embark on, to fill the pages with stories of them and their son, of joy and welcomed surprises. It's anything and everything.

And in one word: finally.

—

Mike and Rachel fly in the next day, arms full of flowers and balloons and one tan teddy bear. Rachel immediately wells up with tears and Mike grins impossibly hard at the sight of the small infant asleep in Donna's hold. It feels all kinds of right, the four of them together to greet a new member of the family into the world. Rachel holds out her arms and Donna passes her son along. His eyes open briefly open but soon close again, already feeling a sense of comfort with her.

"What's his name?" Rachel asks softly.

"Gordon," Donna says. "We named him after Harvey's father."

"Gordon Michael," Harvey corrects. "We couldn't forget his godfather."

Mike pulls Harvey into a fierce hug, tearily laughing, "You sap."

Minutes later, Mike holds Gordon in his arms and starts whispering stories about the days of him and Harvey winning cases together. Rachel chimes in with her own tales of Harriet Specter and Michelle Ross. Their voices are hushed but still so heavy with love. Harvey begins to feel a tear meander down his cheek. Donna, of course, notices right away.

"You okay?" she asks, holding onto his hand.

"More than okay," he soothes her, then brushes the tear off his face. "I feel… complete."

iii.

Donna decides this is her favorite sight:

Harvey sits at his desk, manilla folders and files spread about, a laptop splayed open, his mouth precariously balancing a pen between his lips. His eyebrows furrow; his eyes dart back and forth; he scribbles down notes on a legal pad. He's in the zone, completely unaware of and immune to the rest of the firm, fully engrossed in the world of law and precedent.

Except for this—his son, all of four-years-old and wearing an infamous Specter smile, sitting on Harvey's lap, coloring a piece of paper with a similar concentration to his father. Harvey brings a free hand up to mess with Gordon's blonde hair and listens to the way his son giggles.

"Are you gonna win, Daddy?" Gordon asks, tilting his head to look up at his dad.

Harvey raises an eyebrow. "Win my case?"

Gordon excitedly nods his head.

"I'm going to try, G."

"You're like a superhero," his son says, of soft wonder and awe. "You help people and drive a cool car. Like Batman. That's what Uncle Mike told me."

"Did he really?" Harvey asks, amused.

"Yuh-huh," Gordon smiles. "He says you always save the day."

"I don't think everyone would agree," Harvey says with a sheepish laugh.

Gordon drops his crayon and twists around in his father lap, bringing his small hands up to cup Harvey's face. It's a habit he's started to form: to hold his parents' faces and look them right in the eye with an unwavering seriousness. The Paulsen-Specter genes are almost too strong, their son already a product of charisma and commanding attention. Harvey breaks into a smile at his son's gesture.

"They're wrong then, Daddy," Gordon assures, his tone as earnest as a child can muster. "You're the best."

Donna remains standing outside of Harvey's office, feeling herself almost tear up. There had been moments before Gordon was born where Harvey would worry: worry that he wouldn't be a great dad, that he would be too difficult to connect with and too damaged by his years of being a ruthless prosecutor.

But it never rang true. The connection between Harvey and his son is one akin to Harvey and his own father, of fierce love and admiration. Gordon looks at Harvey like he hung the moon and Donna knows it almost overwhelms her husband. He once had the idea that people would always leave him—now, she watches Harvey wrap his arms around his son and press a kiss to the top of his head. Gordon beams into his father's chest, holding on for the moment and for forever, completely devoted and in awe of his father.

"Hey, you two." Donna knocks on Harvey's office door. Harvey's mouth splits into a smile and Gordon clambers off his father's lap, running toward Donna (he adores her just as much).

"Momma," Gordon beams and throws himself into her arms. She picks him up—just barely.

"You're almost getting too big for me to do this, baby," she says as he hooks his arms around her neck. He merely giggles.

Harvey rises from his chair and walks over to his wife, briefly kissing her. "You were watching us the whole time, weren't you?" He breathes out against her ear.

"I didn't want to interrupt," she says, almost as quietly. "It was a sweet moment."

"He's still at the age where he thinks I can save the world."

"I still believe you can."

His eyes soften; she wants to melt. "I love you." He accentuates: "So much."

"I love you too." She kisses him again. Gordon slightly grumbles at their affection and his parents both laugh.

From the outside, it looks like any other moment: a mother and a father and their son. The son snuggles further into his mother's hold and the father slings his arm around her back, reveling in their time spent at work without the chaos of a lawsuit looming.

But on the inside, it's never taken for granted. In a way, they both were and were not supposed to end up together, to be happily married and raising a child. It seemed too much time had passed for this to occur. Thirteen years: more than a decade, many moments missed, oh so fleeting. But now, it's year eighteen, and they only look ahead, never completely forgetting what led them to where they are, but also never dwelling for too long. It's easier to kiss and make up than retreat back to how they used to be.

Donna puts down Gordon after a minute. He looks up at her with pleading eyes.

"Can I go say hi to Uncle Louis?" he asks.

"Of course. Just no running in the hallway," she reminds him.

He takes off in a quick walk which soon turns into a sprint once he thinks he's out of sight. Donna shakes her head, laughing, and then intertwines her fingers with Harvey's.

"He's all yours," she says.

"Please." Harvey rolls his eyes. "He's got the whole firm wrapped around his finger—such a Paulsen."

Donna leans into Harvey's side, her head falling to his shoulder.

"Thank you, Harvey."

He asks, confused: "For what?"

"For everything. For this, for our son, for us."

He brings his hand to her cheek and titles her face toward him. His lips capture hers in sweet love, his palm warm against her skin. He pulls his head away after a beat and softly smiles, the kind he reserves only for her.

"We're just beginning, Donna."