Dreams are just dreams. And reality is something else. Reality is better.
That's what he's thinking, standing in her kitchen wearing the same underwear as the night before because he slept at his girlfriend's house.
HE SLEPT AT DONNA'S. He has a stupid smile permanently etched on his face now and he feels like whistling, or singing, but that would wake her up and she needs to rest. She needs to rest after the night they shared and she needs to be waken up with kisses and a warm coffee.
He had that dream where she was bringing him coffee in bed, but that was a mistake: she is the one, after everything he put her through, that deserves coffee in bed.
The problem is that, contrary to her who knows everything, he knows nothing.
He doesn't know his way around the kitchen, has to open a few drawers to find a spoon, doesn't know how this damn coffee machine works. When he finally manages to make the machine works, he makes a mess by choosing a cup way too small. He should have pressed the 'Stop' button but he got lost in his thoughts, thinking about the night before. Before he knows it, he feels coffee dripping on his boxer. "Fuck!" It's too late. Dark, hot liquid everywhere on the counter, falling on the kitchen floor. He catches a hand towel, tries to clean up the mess. He burns his hand, bites his lip not to scream a 'Christ!" He puts his hand in the sink under cold water as he finishes cleaning up the counter with his other hand.
One sugar?
Two?
Or was it chocolate?
He tries to remember how she likes her coffee, but what he feels is the sharp pain of his hand. He closes his eyes: what does she take at the office? He knows it. She told him a thousand times.
But all he can think about is how her dark-painted nails dug his skin when he found just the right spot, how her naked skin felt against his, how can someone be so soft and warm and…
He wants to see her.
He needs to touch her, to kiss her. Now.
And now dreams have become reality, he can.
He finds her sitting in bed, a smile on her lips. She's even more beautiful in the morning, he can't remember ever feeling this way by looking at a woman 'AFTER'. Maybe it's seeing her without makeup, her freckled glowing skin catching his attention. Maybe it's her messy hair, red and shiny as rays of sunlight catches in her strands. Maybe it's the smile she has for him, FOR HIM…
It's EVERYTHING. She's everything he ever needed.
He sits on the bed, smiling back. "I made you coffee," he states maybe a bit too proudly.
She jerks an eyebrow, takes the mug and takes a sip.
She makes a face, swallowing hard, puts the mug back in his hands.
"Huh...what happened to your hand?" She points at the kitchen towel still wrapped around his hand.
"We have to get you a new coffee machine. This one is obviously defective."
She gently unwraps the towel to look at his hand.
"I think the machine is perfectly fine. It's the barista who's defective." She leaves a small kiss on his hand. "Maybe I should get a new barista?"
"Maybe you should let me apologize and then we'll see if you still want another barista?" He leans in to kiss her, his hand behind her neck, fingers in her hair. She hums against his lips and her tongue tastes of...bad coffee.
"Okay I forgot to put sugar," he sighs against her lips.
She runs her thumb against his jawline and smiles.
"Maybe from now on you should let me be in charge and you should just bring me caramel?"
He kisses her again because he likes nothing more than feeling her lips against his, and her hands warm on his skin, and how he can feels himself melt against her, his body reacting to her every touch…
"Harvey. The caramel," she murmurs between kisses as his hand trails down her leg.
He reluctantly stops, already feeling his body throbbing with needs as his arms pushes himself above her.
"You are not gonna drink this coffee,' he whines. "Donna, it tastes like shit."
She stares at him insistently, trailing her index from his lips down to his front, her hand sneaking into his boxers and…
He groans as his breath catches in his throat.
"Harvey, I don't want caramel in my coffee...go get the caramel NOW."
So in a way, you can say, that morning, Harvey Specter gave Donna Paulsen the best coffee she's ever had.