185. {c} [suits] (harvey/donna) don't back down [6/?]
don't back down; harvey/donna ; r (and maybe NC-17); 1,258 words;
6
somewhere between leaving and coming back something just changes somehow
a/n: so i have this friend erica who was all "watch suits, it's really good" and so i did and now i don't know what to do anymore because suits, so she wanted me to write baby!fic as she always does so here it starts
He cringes when he hears a box drop heavily on his wood floor from the other room. He pushes himself to his feet and goes through the French doors in a restricted rush. His eyebrows are furrowed but she catches him in the hallway before he can make it into the living room; she knows him well enough that she could foresee his reaction.
Her hands circle his wrists, keeping him from actually making it very far away from his study; "that's real wood, not that faux shit."
"Honey, they're movers. This is what they do," she says with a small smile.
He winces, reaches out and wraps his hand around her waist to tug her to him, "you don't have that much stuff, right?"
"I have my stuff," she replies pointedly.
Her fingers thread with his as another box hits the floor and his eyes dart back into the direction of the living room; he huffs, "but you had to move it all right now?"
"I sold my apartment," she reminds him, "I couldn't leave my stuff there any longer. We close on Monday."
"When did you even do all of this?" He questions; he winces as he hears wheels slide over the floor.
"I'm that good," she reminds him again.
"You're cute but you have to tell me these things," he counters with a bit of annoyance.
She smirks, "you act like I don't take care of everything anyway."
"Regardless," he says, "I didn't know this is what we're doing today."
"We are hardly doing anything," she replies with a laugh, "you're paying them good money to do this, let them do it."
"Am I paying them to get it into the house so I can move the boxes the rest of the way," he asks, snidely.
She shrugs half-heartedly, "maybe I think it would be nice to watch a very good looking guy get all hot and sweaty. And you're not too bad to look at."
"I can think of other ways to fullfill that for you," he counters, eyebrow rising suggestively on his forehead.
She leans in really close, the feel of her cheek sliding over his distracting him from the noise in the other room, "I'm sure you can."
He tilts his head at her, nearly giving in before he regains himself, "no, you go babysit them and make sure nothing happens to our floors or our furniture."
"I like the way you're calling it our now," she comments with a smirk.
"You're lucky you're hot," he mutters as he steps back to put distance between them; he disappears back into the study.
He nearly trips over a box on his way in the front door, legs like jello after his run through Central Park per Donna's request. After one too many freak outs over the noises the movers were making from the boxes, she'd kicked him out of the apartment. He begrudgingly did as he was told but mostly because her pregnancy mood swings could be terrifying.
His eyebrows furrow at the silence, noting that the movers are clearly gone, but the apartment is oddly dark for it to be pretty early in the evening. He kicks off his shoes beside the door remembering the last time he went through Central Park and Donna snapped at him. He walks into the bedroom, surprised when he finds her asleep in the middle of the bed.
As adorable as he may think she is, he climbs onto the bed and pushes his fingers into her hair. She stirs, slowly peeling an eye open to look up at whoever is disturbing her. He offers her a small smile as he leans down to kiss her.
He slides down furth into the bed and circles his arms around her; she groans in response, "you smell horrible."
"Well, geez, and to think I was being sweet for once," he mutters with a grin.
"I'm sorry, honey," she says tiredly, "I just, pregnancy hormones enhances everything."
"I can go," he says, making a move to leave.
Her fingers grasp his waist, nails digging into his skin through his gray t-shirt, "don't you dare."
"Tired from all that moving?"
She huffs, letting her hand drop lower to slip beneath his shirt and absently drag her fingers along his skin, "don't mock me."
"Me? I would never," he feigns offense, "I can't believe you would think such a thing about me."
"Shut up," her hand slaps against his stomach, "I forget how difficult you are on a daily basis."
"Yeah, well, you're a treasure yourself," he counters with a grin. His lips slide over her forehead, his fingers moving to her chin to tilt her mouth upward. He covers her mouth with his, lets the warmth tangle between them as his tongue slides over her bottom lip for a brief moment. She sighs as he pulls back, "you smell nice."
"That's because you smell like a caveman," she whispers in return.
His face contorts teasingly, "do you ever stop complaining?"
"I never said," she starts, pushing her lips into his as she slides her hands further up his back, "that it didn't turn me on."
"You have a funny way of showing it," he mutters against her lips.
She laughs gently and it tickles his lips, "I like to remain unpredictable."
"Oh baby," he teases, "you surprise me every day just by existing."
"Either I'm still asleep or becoming a daddy is making you soft," she says against his lips.
The warmth lingers there for a moment as his hand slips up her shirt, "I'm hardly soft."
He pushes his hips against hers and he is clearly not soft. She pushes her tongue into the corner of her mouth as she pulls her hands between them, feeling him through his shorts. He smirks at how natural the movement is, how easily they fit together.
"No," she agrees, "you're not soft, are you?"
"I'm like a trojan horse," he remarks with a grin.
She smirks in return, "yes, well, you clearly don't know how to use a Trojan."
"It takes two, baby," he counters. He presses his lips into hers, her skin soft beneath his fingertips as he slides his hand up her spine. He feels her shiver beneath his touch, a smile pressed to his mouth. "Have I told you thank you?"
"Once, but that was a long time ago," she tells him cheekily.
He laughs gently, "well, aren't you just cute?"
"Yes," she agrees, "you seem to find something about me irresistably attractive."
"I know," he mutters against her skin, lips pressed lazily in the spot between her jaw and her neck, "don't tell anyone though."
"I think it's pretty obvious that at least once you found me attractive," she replies with a smirk.
"What if I start telling people that she isn't mine?"
She smacks him in the chest, fingers immediately circling his ribcage and squeezing, "you'd break your daughter's heart before she even makes it into this world?"
"I demand a paternity test," he mutters; his words ghost on her skin, a chill skating through her. He can see her tightened jaw even in the darkened space between them and he offers her a smirk. He thinks the daggers in her eyes are going to stab him. "Joke too far?"
"Far enough that if you keep talking you'll probably end up on the couch," she warns.
He grins and nods, her fingers pressing hard into his ribcage as he presses his mouth against her skin, "point made."
6
somewhere between leaving and coming back something just changes somehow
a/n: so i have this friend erica who was all "watch suits, it's really good" and so i did and now i don't know what to do anymore because suits, so she wanted me to write baby!fic as she always does so here it starts
He cringes when he hears a box drop heavily on his wood floor from the other room. He pushes himself to his feet and goes through the French doors in a restricted rush. His eyebrows are furrowed but she catches him in the hallway before he can make it into the living room; she knows him well enough that she could foresee his reaction.
Her hands circle his wrists, keeping him from actually making it very far away from his study; "that's real wood, not that faux shit."
"Honey, they're movers. This is what they do," she says with a small smile.
He winces, reaches out and wraps his hand around her waist to tug her to him, "you don't have that much stuff, right?"
"I have my stuff," she replies pointedly.
Her fingers thread with his as another box hits the floor and his eyes dart back into the direction of the living room; he huffs, "but you had to move it all right now?"
"I sold my apartment," she reminds him, "I couldn't leave my stuff there any longer. We close on Monday."
"When did you even do all of this?" He questions; he winces as he hears wheels slide over the floor.
"I'm that good," she reminds him again.
"You're cute but you have to tell me these things," he counters with a bit of annoyance.
She smirks, "you act like I don't take care of everything anyway."
"Regardless," he says, "I didn't know this is what we're doing today."
"We are hardly doing anything," she replies with a laugh, "you're paying them good money to do this, let them do it."
"Am I paying them to get it into the house so I can move the boxes the rest of the way," he asks, snidely.
She shrugs half-heartedly, "maybe I think it would be nice to watch a very good looking guy get all hot and sweaty. And you're not too bad to look at."
"I can think of other ways to fullfill that for you," he counters, eyebrow rising suggestively on his forehead.
She leans in really close, the feel of her cheek sliding over his distracting him from the noise in the other room, "I'm sure you can."
He tilts his head at her, nearly giving in before he regains himself, "no, you go babysit them and make sure nothing happens to our floors or our furniture."
"I like the way you're calling it our now," she comments with a smirk.
"You're lucky you're hot," he mutters as he steps back to put distance between them; he disappears back into the study.
He nearly trips over a box on his way in the front door, legs like jello after his run through Central Park per Donna's request. After one too many freak outs over the noises the movers were making from the boxes, she'd kicked him out of the apartment. He begrudgingly did as he was told but mostly because her pregnancy mood swings could be terrifying.
His eyebrows furrow at the silence, noting that the movers are clearly gone, but the apartment is oddly dark for it to be pretty early in the evening. He kicks off his shoes beside the door remembering the last time he went through Central Park and Donna snapped at him. He walks into the bedroom, surprised when he finds her asleep in the middle of the bed.
As adorable as he may think she is, he climbs onto the bed and pushes his fingers into her hair. She stirs, slowly peeling an eye open to look up at whoever is disturbing her. He offers her a small smile as he leans down to kiss her.
He slides down furth into the bed and circles his arms around her; she groans in response, "you smell horrible."
"Well, geez, and to think I was being sweet for once," he mutters with a grin.
"I'm sorry, honey," she says tiredly, "I just, pregnancy hormones enhances everything."
"I can go," he says, making a move to leave.
Her fingers grasp his waist, nails digging into his skin through his gray t-shirt, "don't you dare."
"Tired from all that moving?"
She huffs, letting her hand drop lower to slip beneath his shirt and absently drag her fingers along his skin, "don't mock me."
"Me? I would never," he feigns offense, "I can't believe you would think such a thing about me."
"Shut up," her hand slaps against his stomach, "I forget how difficult you are on a daily basis."
"Yeah, well, you're a treasure yourself," he counters with a grin. His lips slide over her forehead, his fingers moving to her chin to tilt her mouth upward. He covers her mouth with his, lets the warmth tangle between them as his tongue slides over her bottom lip for a brief moment. She sighs as he pulls back, "you smell nice."
"That's because you smell like a caveman," she whispers in return.
His face contorts teasingly, "do you ever stop complaining?"
"I never said," she starts, pushing her lips into his as she slides her hands further up his back, "that it didn't turn me on."
"You have a funny way of showing it," he mutters against her lips.
She laughs gently and it tickles his lips, "I like to remain unpredictable."
"Oh baby," he teases, "you surprise me every day just by existing."
"Either I'm still asleep or becoming a daddy is making you soft," she says against his lips.
The warmth lingers there for a moment as his hand slips up her shirt, "I'm hardly soft."
He pushes his hips against hers and he is clearly not soft. She pushes her tongue into the corner of her mouth as she pulls her hands between them, feeling him through his shorts. He smirks at how natural the movement is, how easily they fit together.
"No," she agrees, "you're not soft, are you?"
"I'm like a trojan horse," he remarks with a grin.
She smirks in return, "yes, well, you clearly don't know how to use a Trojan."
"It takes two, baby," he counters. He presses his lips into hers, her skin soft beneath his fingertips as he slides his hand up her spine. He feels her shiver beneath his touch, a smile pressed to his mouth. "Have I told you thank you?"
"Once, but that was a long time ago," she tells him cheekily.
He laughs gently, "well, aren't you just cute?"
"Yes," she agrees, "you seem to find something about me irresistably attractive."
"I know," he mutters against her skin, lips pressed lazily in the spot between her jaw and her neck, "don't tell anyone though."
"I think it's pretty obvious that at least once you found me attractive," she replies with a smirk.
"What if I start telling people that she isn't mine?"
She smacks him in the chest, fingers immediately circling his ribcage and squeezing, "you'd break your daughter's heart before she even makes it into this world?"
"I demand a paternity test," he mutters; his words ghost on her skin, a chill skating through her. He can see her tightened jaw even in the darkened space between them and he offers her a smirk. He thinks the daggers in her eyes are going to stab him. "Joke too far?"
"Far enough that if you keep talking you'll probably end up on the couch," she warns.
He grins and nods, her fingers pressing hard into his ribcage as he presses his mouth against her skin, "point made."