A/N: It's been a little while and this is unbetaed, so any rustiness is mine and mine alone.

Hope you enjoy :)

.

Harvey Specter is born on a Tuesday.

His mother tells the story every year on his birthday growing up.

How he was two weeks early.

(You always did things on your own schedule.)

How Gordon almost didn't make it because he was stuck in rehearsal.

(But then ended up pacing the floor for hours, annoying the nurses.)

How she heard him before she saw him, all lungs and full of life.

(It was the best sound I had ever heard.)

How he looked at her as they placed him on her chest.

(Like you knew exactly who I was. Like you knew. You were a part of me.)

.

Harvey is barely three years old when he first swings a bat, falling on his butt and making his dad laugh.

He's four when he scores his first goal playing soccer and he's about the same age when he gets chickenpox.

He learns to ride a bike at five. He's still five when he falls off it for the first time, busting his lip and scraping his knee. He's seven when he teaches Marcus how to ride the very same bike.

He gets into his first fight at eight years of age; he starts it with a strut and a "What did you just say to my brother?" He gets in trouble at school, but not at home. His dad introduces him to boxing at eight and three quarters.

He's ten when he watches his mom create something out of nothing, smiling up as she paints the brightest painting he's ever seen, and he's twelve as he taps his foot and beams at his dad rehearsing with the greats.

He breaks his arm and gets sick after one cigarette and he wins the little league championship.

His mom is there for every one of those milestones. She's there so much, he forgets to notice.

.

The hardest part about keeping Lily's secret is that everything changes for him while staying exactly the same for everyone else. It's isolating and heavy on his shoulders.

Every time his dad tells him how much he loves his mother, how happy he is to have her, he feels a little more guilty. And every time his dad sides with his mom, he feels a little more angry.

Every time he has to pretend like everything is fine, he feels a little more alone.

He sees her kiss his dad and hold his hand and make promises, like she isn't doing the exact same thing with someone else behind his back, and with each lie he believes a little less in forever.

It stays with him for a long time, the guilt and the anger and the loneliness. It eats away at him, until he's convinced that that's exactly how he wants it.

.

Harvey is seven when he likes a girl for the first time - Jennie Marsh, all freckles and attitude - but it takes another three years for him to actually admit to liking a girl, and another two to muster up the courage to kiss one.

He's twenty-two the first time he considers bringing one home (but doesn't).

It would be a long time before he feels that way again.

.

He's sitting on her couch and he sees it. If he leans in now, she'll kiss him back. She'll taste of wine and possibility and he'll take her to her bedroom and make love to her - he doesn't know how to fuck Donna - and she'll want more and he'll want to give her everything he has.

She deserves better than that.

.

There is no one day or time that he forgives his mom. In fact, the whole thing almost sneaks up on him.

One moment he's shouting at Bobby, feeling like that helpless stupid kid again, and the next he's letting go of the anger that's been eating him up for years, crying in his mother's arms, and he's missed this so goddamn much, just being a son again.

He starts forgiving her that day. It's a work in progress. For some odd and unexpected reason, being forgiven seems to help. It gives him permission to start forgiving himself, too.

.

"Hi, mom."

"Hello, Harvey," she says and he hears her closing a cupboard on the other side. "I hope this isn't a bad time."

Harvey smiles. "No, mom. It's good to hear from you." Once upon a time, his answer would have been very different. Once upon a time, she wouldn't have called. With his mother's voice in one ear and Donna shuffling outside in the other, he likes his now so much better. "What's up."

"Well, I've been thinking," she starts.

Harvey chuckles, undoing his cuffs, "Oh, boy."

"No, no, this is good. In fact," Lily says. "I was looking at the calendar and my Sundays are looking pretty open next month." Harvey hears her pull up a chair as she gets to the point he suspects she's making, "So I was wondering if you and Donna would maybe like to come over for lunch one weekend."

His answer catches in his throat. It's ridiculous; this is not unexpected.

Lily misinterprets his silence. "Look, Harvey, if you think it's too soon –"

"I don't," he interrupts, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "Actually. I think it's long overdue."

It's Lily's turn to be quiet and they sit like that for a moment before she finally speaks, quiet and full of emotion, "I hope she likes my roast dinner."

Harvey hears what she's actually saying. I hope she likes me.

Walking over to the doorway to the living room, he leans against the wood and looks at Donna, her back to him as she potters around in his kitchen, like she's been doing it for the last fifteen years.

"She will love your roast dinner."

.

He's changed out of his suit and into some slacks and a sweater when his phone buzzes on the dresser. Glancing at the screen, he reads the message,

I just realized I never actually saw your Donna. Marcus says she's a redhead.

Harvey chuckles as he grabs the phone to reply. Lily always did love to pry.

She is.

He thinks about adding more but decides against it. He almost laughs at how quickly she replies; who knew Lily could type that fast.

Don't be smart with me, Harvey Reginald Specter.

Shaking his head, he types up, What do you want, a picture? Only to realize he walked straight into that one.

I sure do.

And then, It would be nice to put a face to the girl you accidentally asked to marry.

He is never living that down.

Not until he asks for real.

He could reply telling her she'll meet her in a few weeks, but if he's honest, he doesn't feel like waiting either. It's surprising and new and something he thought he'd given up on feeling, but he finds he wants to share Donna with his mom.

.

Donna is standing in the kitchen with her back to him, making a salad to go with his lazy offering of takeout pizza when he walks up to the counter.

"Hey."

"Hey," she says without turning around. "Almost ready. Could you grab the plates?"

He doesn't. Instead, he watches her put the tomatoes she's just cut into the bowl. She reaches for the seasoning and adds it to the salad. There's a song playing quietly in the background – a Frank Sinatra instrumental, maybe; it sounds vaguely familiar – and she hums along as she moves around with ease, happy and comfortable and belonging.

Harvey realizes this is how he wants his mother to see her. This is how he wants to see her, for the rest of his days.

"Harvey?" she prompts when he doesn't move.

"You mind if I take a picture?"

"Why," she draws out, eyeing him suspiciously before reaching for the napkins.

"I told my mom you're the one," he replies simply, watches her hand still in its task. "She invited us round for dinner next month," he continues conversationally, like he isn't wearing his heart on his sleeve. "And she can't wait to see you. Literally."

From where he's standing, he can only see a part of her side profile, but her cheek swells as her lips stretch into a smile, her head hung low, strands of her hair falling from behind her ear, and christ, he can't get enough of doing that to her, above all else.

She turns around – finally – her fingers gripping the counter behind her, corner of her lip between her teeth in a poor attempt to stifle a smile. "Okay but make it quick."

"Why?"

"Because," she states. "I really really want to kiss you right now."

He fishes the phone out of his pocket, almost dropping it in his hurry. She laughs at his eagerness and he captures it. Wishes he could capture the sound, too, and jesus, he really is a goner.

She clearly doesn't notice he's taken the picture because she's fixing her hair, says, "Okay, okay." And, smoothing down her top, "Please don't say cheese."

"I wasn't going to," he replies, phone raised half-heartedly as he looks at her (it's more like gazing). "I was going to say I love you."

It's the second time he's said it. Third if you count the one he took back years ago. It still feels like he's exposing himself to everything he's spent years trying to protect himself against. The fact he wants to be exposed to every single one of those things for as long as they both shall live seems to make all the difference.

Her lips part as she breathes it in, her head cocking, her smile warm and intimate as she pushes away from the counter. Harvey puts the phone down without looking as a barefoot Donna comes up to him, her arms weaving around his neck, her lips soft against his. She tastes of basil and red wine and smells of her shampoo and his sheets; she must have had a shower before he came home. He pulls her closer, his palms flat and firm on the small of her back, his mouth opening as he deepens the kiss, as he realizes she's making herself at home.

She's making this a home.

Pulling away, her fingers brush his ear as she scans his face. "Never gets old," she says, her voice low. She means the I love you.

"No. It doesn't." He means kissing her.

He grins and doesn't mind looking like the happy fool he feels.

Her fingers trail down his arm, catching his and tugging gently as she leads him away from the kitchen and to where she knows the photo album is (only one for now; he'll ask Lily for more later).

Turning to him, she says, "I can't wait to meet her face to face." She flicks her head to the shelf, and he feels her hand squeezing his. "But in the mean time. I'd love to see your mom."

They grab the wine and forget the pizza; they put on Gordon and Harvey shows her.

.

He doesn't look at his phone until the next morning.

The picture he sends Lily is the first one he took. Donna's head is tilted down and her eyes are almost closed in laughter, her nose crinkling as her hand raises to tuck some errant strands behind her ear. If he was asked to describe happiness, he'd point to this picture of Donna in his kitchen, laughing at his eagerness to kiss her.

Then there's the picture he keeps to himself.

Turns out, he did take the second photo, the one just after he told her he loved her. His thumb must have hit the button by accident, because it's far from being the perfect shot. Donna is off center and the picture is slightly blurry. Her expression is clear, though, and he stares at it for the longest time – the wide eyes and parted lips and the wonder.

If he was asked to describe what he wants his future to look like, he'd point to this picture of Donna, in his kitchen, hearing him say he loves her.

It's too intimate to share. He prints it out and puts it in his wallet.

.

She's beautiful.

She is.

It's so good to see you this happy, Harvey.

The picture is of Donna, but she's his mom. She knows.

.

They sit in silence for awhile the night Donna gives him back the painting.

Finally, he sighs and Lily chuckles and the moment ends.

"I'm gonna go now."

"Thank you for calling, Harvey." Then, "May I ask what prompted this?"

"A lot of things," he says. "A trip with a friend. And Donna."

"Oh?"

"That duck painting I had? I lost it a little while ago."

"Hard to lose a painting."

"Yeah," he huffs. She doesn't comment. "Donna managed to get it back."

"She sounds incredible."

"She is."

"I'm really looking forward to meeting her."

"She's looking forward to it, too, mom." A pause, then, "So am I."

He's finally bringing a girl home and it was worth the wait.

.

He has a few regrets. Not many, but a few.

He wishes he had been ready to forgive his mom a lot sooner than he did. He wishes he was just a little quicker at coming to his senses and to Donna's front door.

Lily and Donna would have made a hell of a team.

.

Lily Specter dies on a Thursday.

It's a heart attack and it's sudden and it feels so much like Gordon, Harvey can't breathe.

Donna holds him after she tells him the news, and she holds him in bed that night, and he cries and she doesn't comment. Instead, she just soothes her fingers through his hair and shushes into his temple and protects his heart with the palm of her hand.

.

Harvey sees him approaching and stands a little taller; an ingrained fight or flight response.

Coming to stand next to him by the grave, Bobby clears his throat, looks him in the eye, "I know I'm not your favorite person in the world, but I just wanted to thank you."
Harvey doesn't know what he expected, but it wasn't that. "For what?"

"For welcoming Lily back into your life," he says simply, like Harvey didn't take twenty goddamn years to do it. "I had never seen her happier than she was in the last few months Harvey."

Harvey nods because that's about all he can do. He holds back tears; his eyes burn with the effort.

Bobby's hand is firm on his shoulder. "I mean it. She was," he searches for the word. "Complete." Patting his arm, Bobby takes a step back.

Harvey can't settle on a response, so he stays quiet. It's not uncomfortable or tense, and that's no small miracle. They stand there for a little while, looking down and into the ground.

"Anyway. She said you asked for some photographs." Harvey nods. "They're in the house. You don't have to do it today, of course. Come back any time. Just, you know. You're welcome to have them."

"Thank you."

"I'm sorry, Harvey. For my part in your relationship with her. I'm truly sorry."

Bobby turns to leave. "You loved her," he says to his retrieving back. "Can't help that."

He sees the other man nod, his head hung low, "No, you can't."

Bobby leaves and Harvey catches Donna's eye in the distance. She smiles gently and he can't help it. It's faint and barely there, but he smiles back.

.

"There are so many things I wanted you to be a part of. I'm gonna miss you, mom."

The earth remains silent.

.

He sits on the end of her bed, hands crossed between his knees as he looks around her bedroom. His breathing feels loud in an empty room. He feels the tears come and he chokes them back; the sound startles him.

He hangs his head, his shoulders shaking with the restraint.

The drumming in his ears is so loud, he doesn't hear her come in. A dip in a bed and a hand on his hand, an arm over his back, and then he's turning into her. Donna pulls him in, his face buried in the crook of her neck, and he cries for his mom.

.

Harvey pours them a glass of scotch. "I know what you're trying to do. And I appreciate it."

Mike takes the glass. "But you don't want to talk about it, right."

"Not really," Harvey says, taking a seat.

"I'm just saying," Mike is not letting it go. He never does. "If you wanna talk. I know what it's like."

"You lost your parents when you were a kid, Mike. I'm a grown man, okay. I don't need – "

"I lost my parents when I was a kid, but I was orphaned as an adult, and you know it."

Harvey swallows. He does know that. "I'm sorry, man. Look, I'm just not good at this."

"No shit."

Harvey purses his lips and rolls his eyes in lieu of a reply.

"Wanna get high?"

Harvey almost chokes on his drink. "As tempting as that is," he says, "I don't know if you noticed, but we have a lot going on."

"We could sneak into the office and piss on Faye's plants."

Harvey does choke on his drink this time. Mike pats his back.

It feels good to laugh.

.

"So. Where's Donna?"

They're tipsy, but not drunk. "She's staying at her place tonight."

"Her place."

"Yes. It's where she lives."

Mike looks around and Harvey follows his gaze. "Doesn't look that way to me."

"If you have something to say, Mike, please just say it."

"Life is short, Harvey," he says, warm and earnest.

"Thanks, brother wisdom."

"Too short not to be sleeping next to the woman you love."

The kid is annoying, but he does make a point.

.

"Man, I forgot half of these existed."

Harvey huffs, "Yeah."

"She took a lot of photos for someone raising kids without a smartphone." Marcus fishes out a photo from the nearest shoebox. "Look at us. God, Harvey, what is that sweater?"

Harvey looks at the photo, grimacing, "You're the one to talk. What is that haircut?"

"I think mom cut it herself."

Harvey smiles. She did do that sometimes.

"Are you taking all of these?"

Harvey looks around at the boxes filled with albums and loose photographs and trinkets and memories. "I asked for a few pictures to show Donna."

"A few." Marcus chuckles.

"A few," Harvey smiles.

"That's mom for ya."

"Yeah," he says, his lip furling. It's been a couple of weeks. The ache is still there but duller. He feels guilty for getting used to it.

"Listen, you take what you want, and I'll have the rest, how's that."

Putting the photo down, Marcus seems ready to leave him to it. Harvey stops him with a hand on his elbow. "What do you say we go through these together?"

Marcus smiles. "Yeah. That sounds good."

.

He climbs into bed late, careful not to wake her.

"I'm not sleeping."

He puts his arm around her, buries his face in the crook of her shoulder. "I'm glad."

"How was it?"

"Good. It was good."

"Good." Turning around in his arms, she scoots closer, her leg wedging its way between his. "Do you want to show me?"

He thinks about the boxes in the other room. "Every single one," he whispers, gently stroking her cheek, brushing her hair back, his fingers tangling in it. "Later, though. Right now, I just need –"

"What?" she asks softly.

"You. I just need you."

"I'm right here."

Where you belong, he thinks but doesn't say.

She must read something in his expression because she says it again. Funny thing is, he doesn't need the reassurance. He needs it to be a promise.

Pressing a finger to her lips, he quiets her. "I know." He moves his finger, replaces it with his lips. "I know," he whispers softly, his eyes never closing.

Rubbing her nose gently against his cheek, she smiles into the kiss.

His fingers move from her hair to her shoulder, pushing the strap of her silk nighty down, her skin hot under his palm. He closes his eyes as she opens her mouth to him, her tongue wet against his lip. He kisses her hungrily then, his hand abandoning her arm for her thigh, hitching it up along with the silk, happy to find her wearing nothing underneath.

Her nails on his scalp send shivers down his spine and lower, and he feels himself twitch against her. Her heel pushes down on the waistband of his boxer shorts and the next moment he's naked and hard against her.

Donna moans into his mouth as he enters her – slower than he wants to; his fingers digging into her hip - and he groans, with desperation and with relief and with an all-consuming need.

She presses down against him. "Please. Harvey."

He thrusts up into her once, then again, his mouth possessive as his tongue tangles with hers, his teeth around her lip. She pulls his head down, her own thrown back, allowing him better access to her chin, her jaw, her throat, and he knows exactly the spots that drive her crazy now and so he does just that.

They don't last long, and soon her heel is digging into the small of his back as she falls apart around him, her tightness pushing him over the edge as he comes deep inside her.

They cling to each other afterwards, sweaty and spent.

He kisses the top of her head and marvels at the fact he can be this happy amidst all his grief. And he shouldn't really; he's known it for awhile. But he still marvels at the difference Donna makes.

.

He's drawing idle circles on her arm. "I missed you today."

"Me, too," she murmurs. "This place feels empty without you."

Harvey opens his eyes at the truth in her words. "It does."

"Hmm?"

"I like this. I like," he breathes in, then "I love coming home to you."

Lifting her head off the pillow, she looks at him. "Are you asking me to move in with you?"

"Yeah. I guess I am."

"We're practically living together already."

"I don't want practically." He pulls her down, rolls her half on top of him. "I want actually."

She chuckles, throaty and indulging. "Okay."

"Is that a yes?"

"Yeah. I guess it is."

.

Framed pictures of her family join the ones she framed of his.

Their memories fit together perfectly.

.

In the end, he's not a named partner anymore. He feels a lot of things – from melancholy to relief – but the one thing he doesn't feel is lost.

He knows who he is and he's okay with that. He's a friend and a best man and a godfather. He's a brother and an uncle. He's a fiancé, too, kind of.

He wonders if Donna thinks of them as engaged.

He should ask.

.

"I'm just saying. If Louis can do it," he looks at her pointedly and she slaps his arm.

"Be nice."

"I am nice," he defends. "I'm his best man, aren't I."

"Always the best man, never the groom," she teases as he sways them gently to the music.

Harvey pulls away and takes the opening. "Do you want me to be the groom?"

"You do look good in a tux." She's not taking him seriously.

"Donna," he says, leaning in and speaking low in her ear. "I'm actually asking the question."

She pulls away to look at him. "You mean," she doesn't finish, let's the thought hang there for a moment, heavy and significant.

"I mean," he pulls her in, their foreheads almost touching. "I want you to marry me."

Biting her lip, she focuses on his collar. "We've been through a lot lately."

"Yeah."

"A lot of turmoil. A lot of changes." She looks up at him, "Are you sure this is the right time?"

"Donna," he starts, "If I've learned anything from the past few weeks, it's that now is exactly the right time."

"I'm not going anywhere, Harvey."

He knows what she's getting at. "I know I can be an idiot, Donna, but I'm well aware that marriage isn't going to ward off death." His tone turns softer again, "This isn't about that."

"I know, I just. I don't want you to be making decisions you're not ready to make."

"Good, because this is the one decision I made a long time ago."

She looks at him in that Donna way she has, the one that allows her to know everything. He doesn't mind; he wants her to see.

He wants her to hear. "I've wasted so much time on shit that doesn't matter. I just want to concentrate on what does. And the thing that matters most to me is you."

"Well," she says after a long pause, her voice just a little watery.

"I mean," he pulls her in until she's flush against him, "We're practically engaged already."

"I don't want practically."

"Neither do I," he replies, his tone serious. "So. Is that a yes?"

"Yeah, Harvey," she smiles, "That's a yes."

Pressing his lips to hers, he can't remember ever being happier.

"By the way," she says, nuzzling into his neck. "This isn't at all how I'd have instructed you to ask."

He huffs, smiling into her hair. "I figured."

Standing on her tiptoes, she murmurs in his ear, "This is way better."

.

The photographer snaps a picture of them like that, slow dancing under fairy lights, his nose in her cheek and his eyes closed as they move together to some song neither will remember later.

They keep it on the nightstand next to her side of the bed.

.

"He always wanted me to have that," he comments as they look at the picture of his dad, his smile wide, his arms around a pregnant Lily. "Always worried I would never find it."

"Do you? Want that."

Harvey looks at her, sitting next to him in the dim light, her hair falling messily around her shoulders, chewing her lip and eying him with careful curiosity.

He looks back to the picture of his parents. "I never used to. I'd look at this picture, and all I could see was how it ended. How weak it made him. How miserable it made me."

"And now?"

"Now," he looks at her. "All I see is two people who are crazy about each other, wanting to start a family."

She smiles at him, wide and happy and he feels his face splitting in a grin.

"Does that answer your question?"

Picking up her glass, she pretends to think about it. "I don't know. You're just as bad at answering questions as you are at asking them." She raises her eyebrow.

He is never ever living that down.

Leaning in, he takes her hand in his. "Donna Paulsen," he asks, faux seriously. "Will you consider having my baby?"

She shakes her head at him and calls him an idiot. Which in Donna speak is just as good as a yes.

.

Lily Paulsen Specter is born on a Monday.

She's six days late and Harvey is there from the very first contraction to the moment she's out eight hours later, loud and red, in face and what little hair she has. He cuts the cord as they lay her on Donna's chest. She quiets down and it's Donna's turn to cry.

She chuckles at him through tears, "She's finally here."

"She does things on her own schedule."

She knows the story. "Like her dad."

His own cheek is wet but he doesn't bother wiping it. "Like her dad."

His baby looks up at him, with her father's eyes but her mother's scrutiny, and he gets it, now. She's a part of him and that never goes away.

.

Donna is sitting on the floor of their bedroom, surrounded by photos she's determined to organize into actual albums.

Harvey feels overwhelmed just by looking at it, but if anyone can do it, it's Donna.

"Another coffee?"

"Screw coffee, I need wine."

"I can go and get some."

Donna throws her head back against the bed. "I'm breastfeeding."

"She's down for the night."

"She's never down for the night."

Harvey concedes; she's got a point there.

"You know," he muses, coming to stand in front of her. "I'm sure there are easier, digital ways to do this."

"Digital ways?" she lifts an eyebrow in mockery.

He rolls his eyes. "Online photo albums or whatever."

"I do know that," she winks at him then turns back to little stacks of photos she's making. "But there's nothing quite like thumbing through an actual album. Besides," she continues. "I really want to include all of these." She turns over a picture she'd been holding and Harvey's mouth purses in indignation. "First time on a potty, Harvey?"

"Maybe that's enough for tonight," he grumbles, sitting down next to her.

"And look who we have here," she ignores him, reaching for the next photo in the pile. "What is that sweater?"

"Have you seen Marcus' haircut?"

"No. The sweater drowned it out." She covers her mouth, "Oh my god. What happened to him?"

Harvey laughs. "Mom did."

"He has bangs."

"All through ages four to seven." He doesn't know why, but he sounds pleased.

Donna bumps his shoulder with her own, kisses his cheek. He follows her, hoping to distract her when they hear a cry from the other room. He groans. "It's like she knows."

Donna laughs, bats him away. "Time to be food."

"By the way," he calls after her, "I've seen your early teen years, Donna."

"Once," she lifts a finger. "Once and never again. I burned all evidence."

He makes a face and doesn't tell her how endearing he thought she looked. She didn't take it as a compliment the last time he said it.

.

He comes out of the shower to find them on the bed.

Donna is lying on her back, nestled in the pillows, a protective hand on Lily's back where she's sleeping on her chest. She opens one eye and smiles at him, puts one finger over her mouth to tell him to be quiet.

He approaches slowly, one knee on the bed then the other, until he's lying down, head propped on one elbow, finger tracing his daughter's chubby cheek.

"Want me to put away the photos?" he whispers.

"No, leave it," she says, fingers wrapping around his wrist. "I like you right here."

He kisses her shoulder. "My favorite place to be."

He doesn't have a camera on hand to capture the moment. But lying there next to his wife and daughter, with the pictures of their families scattered around them in a mess of memories, he bets it would make for one hell of a shot.

.

fin.