Let's hear it for more pointless, plotless pregnancy/baby fic because I have exactly one brain cell and all it's capable of thinking about is Darvey as parents.

Thank you to my #1 beta/cheerleader, Heather.

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to carry love

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Fingers move up and over her stomach, a pattern of water droplets leaving a trail as she traces the small movements beneath. Whether it's a foot or maybe an elbow, she isn't sure but it's steady and repetitive and Donna can't help the soft smile that graces her lips.

She can see it as well, the thump that manifests under her index finger — the tiniest presence making itself known. Herself.

It's a girl. A girl that they made and Donna's growing and even on the days that it's painful or frustrating (which is every day now, if she's being honest), she's still amazed by the way her body has changed in the last eight and a half months, inhabiting a little piece of the both of them. What was once barely just a bundle of cells is now a baby whose movements she can feel and see beneath her own skin and she thinks, maybe, she has never known this kind of love before — unstoppable. Transcending every definition of unconditional.

And just as she can feel her daughter, she can feel Harvey watching from the bathroom door. There's a magnetic pull between them, like a sixth sense that has been there for years. Donna is sure that their baby must sense this too because she's always more active whenever he's nearby.

"I think someone's excited that their daddy's home," she chuckles softly when another strong kick meets her hand, glancing up at her husband. He's leaning against the doorframe — the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up, suit jacket and tie long abandoned with a matching smile on his face.

"Hey."

She beckons him forward with only a look and Harvey pushes away from the wall, making his way over. He leans down and presses his lips to hers quickly — a simple, gentle gesture that has become so routine and ingrained in them but somehow never fails to make her heart race — before sitting down on the floor next to the tub.

"How was work after I left? Did you find that loophole you were looking for?"

Harvey shakes his head, "There's still a little time though. Tonight, I just wanted to be home with my girls."

What a sap.

Donna can't help the way her eyes grow misty (it's the hormones, she's sure) and she lets one hand leave her belly to find his jaw, thumb lingering on his bottom lip.

"Your girls are happy you're home."

She doesn't need to tell him that she has faith that he'll win the case he's been stressing over. He knows that she does. And maybe all the belief that he needs right now is tangible — her hand against his cheek, brown eyes locked on hazel, their very lively baby girl kicking up a storm.

"How are you feeling?" Harvey asks then, noting the way Donna cringes just slightly when there's a jab against her ribs. Baths make the baby more active, too.

"Tired, but okay. Your daughter hasn't been letting me sleep."

"Oh, so she's my daughter when she's causing trouble?"

"Mmhmm."

"Need I remind you—"

"No. You don't. Need I remind you that this," she motions to her belly, "Is your fault?"

"I'd say you were a pretty active participant," Harvey laughs and repositions himself to be able to see both her face and her stomach, one hand coming up to meet the latter.

His palm rests near her belly button, fingers splayed out against soft skin (wedding band, too). It's not the first time, nor will it be the last but Donna feels her breath hitch just slightly as she watches the movement of the something — the someone — they made immediately connect with his touch. Like magic.

And Harvey's right. It's just as much her "fault" as it is his that they're here but she wouldn't change it for a second. Their daughter felt right from the moment they saw two pink lines. Before that, even.

Donna notices the grin that she knows Harvey can't help appear on his face, settling comfortably as he catches each motion inside of her under his outstretched hand. They're a force to be reckoned with, father and daughter, egging each other on already. The baby kicks in time with his voice, over and over and over whenever he speaks.

"It feels like she's trying to bust out of there," she jokes, her own fingers caressing Harvey's on her bump.

"Well, we wouldn't want that. No jailbreaks yet, little one."

Their eyes meet again on instinct and Donna knows what he's thinking. She's thinking the same. Soon. It's hard to believe that they'll meet their little girl in a matter of weeks now; just under six unless she comes early.

They're ready though, both physically and emotionally. And they know that this baby is less the stereotypical next step in their marriage but the culmination of all the years before it too, all the way back to the start. She's a job proposition in a crowded bar, an "I don't want to find out what kind of lawyer I'd be without you", two "I love yous" that left them broken, a side-by-side walk through Pearson Specter Litt, an "I just had to know", and an epiphany. She's just as much their history as she is her own person and neither of them can wait to meet her.

"Thank you," Harvey says softly then, gaze still holding Donna's. There's something in his tone and in his eyes, a way that he gets sometimes both when he thinks she isn't looking or when they're caught up in a moment like this. It's sentimental and heart wrenching, more open and in love than most people think he's capable of. They both know that Harvey has never been and will never be this way with anyone else (besides their child; but like her mother, she's different, too).

"For what?"

He shrugs, "Everything. All of it."

"You've already thanked me for that."

"I know. I meant it then and I mean it even more now, though. Every day I mean it more. You've always been the person that I come to on the bad days and the person that I want to be with on the good ones, Donna. So, yes, thank you. Thank you for letting me be a part of your future."

Donna tilts her head, completely melting with his words and under his gaze. Their hands intertwine on her stomach, the baby calming as if she senses the depth of this moment.

"Can I tell you something?"

Harvey nods.

"You've always been part of it."

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