213. {c} [suits] (harvey/donna) don't back down (7/?)
don't back down; harvey/donna ; pg ; 906 words;
7
somewhere between leaving and coming back something just changes somehow
"This baby hates me," she groans in annoyance, "she won't stop kicking me in the bladder. I feel like I'm going to pee myself every five seconds."
"First of all," he starts, leaning back in his chair and offering her a glance as he drops his pen onto the stack of files, "I'm trying to work and you're not really helping me by coming in here every five minutes."
She raises an eyebrow at him in challenge, leans her palm against his desk, "second?"
"Second, I really don't need to know about your bathroom habits," he tells her. He presses his elbow against the arm of the chair and sighs absently, her head tilting in a manner that almost makes him squirm (almost because there is no way that he could be the guy who appears soft for anyone, especially in the office). She sighs her disapproval and he lifts his own eyebrows in a challenge. "What did you need?"
"You know that pizza place on the corner?"
"Yes," he answers, a bit confused.
"Do you think that you could go there for lunch?"
He chuckles a little, "you can't go yourself?"
"It would mean so much to me if you went for me," she mutters lowly.
His fingers flex as he smirks at her, mouth quirked in a way that almost makes her stand upright and cross her arms over her chest to challenge him; "what do I get out of it?"
"Whatever you want," she replies, eyelids lowering suggestively.
He sighs, "all right, all right. Tell me what you want and I'll get it for you. But don't think you know when or whatever I want is."
"Oh, honey, you're so wonderful," she says triumphantly.
"Your damn pregnancy cravings are going to torture me, aren't they?"
She smirks, shrugs as she stands upright, "probably."
"No, wait," he says before she can leave, "sit. We'll talk."
"Talk? We don't talk," she replies, confused and face contorted to reflect that.
He laughs and lightly shakes his head, "we talk all of the time. What are you talking about?"
"You were just saying that you were trying to work," she reminds him.
He narrows his gaze at her, "you're lucky that you're hot."
"He's not in," she bites at Mike before he can pass her desk. He jumps back, lips parted and eyes narrowed at her in confusion; he looks a bit offended and she wishes that she had it in her to dial back a few, but she can't. She just isn't in the mood. "Can I help you?"
"I have those files that he wanted. Should I leave them on his desk or?"
"Leaving them with me certainly wouldn't do any good," she challenges. He notes her quirked eyebrow and the way she's sitting in her chair like it's one of the biggest evils in the world and he realizes what might be the problem. He swallows, pursing his lips with a slight tilt of his chin. "Is there something else?"
"Are you," he starts, eyes narrowing in her direction, "are you okay?"
"Michael," she nearly snaps. She leans forward and rests her elbows on her desk, pen still perched between her fingers. He recoils a little and he notices that she bites back a laugh, the smirk sliding across her mouth anyway. "The father of my child is running around town, extremely annoyed with all of these tasks that he's doing, snapping at me every time we speak on the phone, completely displeased with his current position as a father yet he continues to insist doing each and every one of them himself all the while, continuing to lose his patience. And that man is not pretty when he loses his cool."
"You're enjoying this," Mike says.
She leans back in her chair, shrugs half-heartedly, "maybe a little."
"I swear to God," Harvey mutters the moment she walks into the room. He avoids eye contact as she looks at him with disdain and he knows that the moment they lock eyes that everything is ruined. Finally, he releases a breath and looks at her with a feigned grin fixed on his mouth. "There you are."
"You're pissed at me," she comments.
"You're driving me crazy," he corrects, "but that isn't exactly the point."
"Then what is the point?"
He leans into the corner of the couch as he pulls his knee up on the cushion, "the point is that you can't have me running your pregnancy craving errands in the middle of the work day. You're my assistant and you're not doing much to lighten my work load at the moment."
"You know what, Harvey, you've always been married to the job," she points out, tone dripping with warning, "but this isn't about me and you anymore. We haven't even been able to figure out how to be us yet and we'll probably never know what it's like."
"Donna," he says with a sigh, "we've been us for thirteen years. We've been working together for a long time. Nobody knows me better."
"This isn't work anymore, Harvey," she replies, the incredulousness edging in, "this is our personal life, our life together. We're going to have a baby, or did you forget?"
He huffs in annoyance, "don't make this about something it isn't. I'm still your boss."
"You're such a prick," she growls before she stomps into the bedroom and closes the door behind her.
7
somewhere between leaving and coming back something just changes somehow
"This baby hates me," she groans in annoyance, "she won't stop kicking me in the bladder. I feel like I'm going to pee myself every five seconds."
"First of all," he starts, leaning back in his chair and offering her a glance as he drops his pen onto the stack of files, "I'm trying to work and you're not really helping me by coming in here every five minutes."
She raises an eyebrow at him in challenge, leans her palm against his desk, "second?"
"Second, I really don't need to know about your bathroom habits," he tells her. He presses his elbow against the arm of the chair and sighs absently, her head tilting in a manner that almost makes him squirm (almost because there is no way that he could be the guy who appears soft for anyone, especially in the office). She sighs her disapproval and he lifts his own eyebrows in a challenge. "What did you need?"
"You know that pizza place on the corner?"
"Yes," he answers, a bit confused.
"Do you think that you could go there for lunch?"
He chuckles a little, "you can't go yourself?"
"It would mean so much to me if you went for me," she mutters lowly.
His fingers flex as he smirks at her, mouth quirked in a way that almost makes her stand upright and cross her arms over her chest to challenge him; "what do I get out of it?"
"Whatever you want," she replies, eyelids lowering suggestively.
He sighs, "all right, all right. Tell me what you want and I'll get it for you. But don't think you know when or whatever I want is."
"Oh, honey, you're so wonderful," she says triumphantly.
"Your damn pregnancy cravings are going to torture me, aren't they?"
She smirks, shrugs as she stands upright, "probably."
"No, wait," he says before she can leave, "sit. We'll talk."
"Talk? We don't talk," she replies, confused and face contorted to reflect that.
He laughs and lightly shakes his head, "we talk all of the time. What are you talking about?"
"You were just saying that you were trying to work," she reminds him.
He narrows his gaze at her, "you're lucky that you're hot."
"He's not in," she bites at Mike before he can pass her desk. He jumps back, lips parted and eyes narrowed at her in confusion; he looks a bit offended and she wishes that she had it in her to dial back a few, but she can't. She just isn't in the mood. "Can I help you?"
"I have those files that he wanted. Should I leave them on his desk or?"
"Leaving them with me certainly wouldn't do any good," she challenges. He notes her quirked eyebrow and the way she's sitting in her chair like it's one of the biggest evils in the world and he realizes what might be the problem. He swallows, pursing his lips with a slight tilt of his chin. "Is there something else?"
"Are you," he starts, eyes narrowing in her direction, "are you okay?"
"Michael," she nearly snaps. She leans forward and rests her elbows on her desk, pen still perched between her fingers. He recoils a little and he notices that she bites back a laugh, the smirk sliding across her mouth anyway. "The father of my child is running around town, extremely annoyed with all of these tasks that he's doing, snapping at me every time we speak on the phone, completely displeased with his current position as a father yet he continues to insist doing each and every one of them himself all the while, continuing to lose his patience. And that man is not pretty when he loses his cool."
"You're enjoying this," Mike says.
She leans back in her chair, shrugs half-heartedly, "maybe a little."
"I swear to God," Harvey mutters the moment she walks into the room. He avoids eye contact as she looks at him with disdain and he knows that the moment they lock eyes that everything is ruined. Finally, he releases a breath and looks at her with a feigned grin fixed on his mouth. "There you are."
"You're pissed at me," she comments.
"You're driving me crazy," he corrects, "but that isn't exactly the point."
"Then what is the point?"
He leans into the corner of the couch as he pulls his knee up on the cushion, "the point is that you can't have me running your pregnancy craving errands in the middle of the work day. You're my assistant and you're not doing much to lighten my work load at the moment."
"You know what, Harvey, you've always been married to the job," she points out, tone dripping with warning, "but this isn't about me and you anymore. We haven't even been able to figure out how to be us yet and we'll probably never know what it's like."
"Donna," he says with a sigh, "we've been us for thirteen years. We've been working together for a long time. Nobody knows me better."
"This isn't work anymore, Harvey," she replies, the incredulousness edging in, "this is our personal life, our life together. We're going to have a baby, or did you forget?"
He huffs in annoyance, "don't make this about something it isn't. I'm still your boss."
"You're such a prick," she growls before she stomps into the bedroom and closes the door behind her.