He wakes up with a dull headache, feeling a little disoriented. He thinks it's probably due to a little too much alcohol last night. Judging by the angle at which the sunlight, albeit dimmed by the curtains, shines into his face, he guesses it must not be too early in the morning and for a second he fears that he has missed the alarm. With relief, he then remembers that it's Saturday.
He turns around and reaches out to her, just as he does every morning right after waking up, pulling her closer to him so that they can doze a little longer in each other's embrace.
Today, however, she is not there and he reaches into the void. He unwillingly opens his eyes and pouts when he finds her side of the bed entirely empty and cold.
Feeling a little disappointed he keeps lying there for a while, hoping that she just went to the bathroom or something. He listens for any noise, but his condo lies in complete silence. The clock on the nightstand on her side of the bed tells him it's 8:30.
He thinks it's odd. Donna, not a morning person at all, would never leave bed voluntarily before 10 am on the weekend. She loves to sleep in and spend half the day tangled up under the sheets, preferably with a round or two of sensual sex followed by breakfast in bed. He also doesn't recall her mentioning a yoga class - the only reason that would get her out of bed this early.
Harvey flips back the covers and sits up. Immediately, his head begins to pound heavier. Goddamn hangover, he curses inwardly. Maybe it's been more than just a few too many drinks. On the nightstand, he finds an Advil, which he quickly gulps down with the remaining water in the glass next to it before he gets up to check for a sign or message from her.
But there is nothing. No text or call on his phone, no sign of her in the bathroom or dressing room either. The living area appears empty, too.
Not long ago, he would have panicked by now. Afraid that she left him, and this time for good. But fortunately, he's overcome that - thanks to regular therapy sessions, their established relationship, and his increased faith in himself and his ability to be worthy of her.
And as he heads to the kitchen, he realizes that the apartment is not as empty as he thought. He spots her on the couch, curled up under a pile of blankets. She seems to be sleeping peacefully, judging by her slightly parted lips and her chest gently rising and falling in sync with her calm breathing.
He can't help but smile at the sight as he approaches her, even though he still can't wrap his head around how and why she's sleeping here and not in their bed. He bends down next to the couch. As he gently removes a few strands of hair from her face, she stirs a little. "Hey," he whispers carefully. She hums softly and stretches on the uncomfortable surface, seeming to be not fully awake. "Donna," he tries again. "Why are you sleeping on the couch?"
Finally, she opens her eyes and blinks at him. "You were snoring like crazy. I couldn't sleep," she whines.
All right, I've really had more than just a few too many drinks, he thinks to himself and immediately gets reminded of his throbbing head.
"Why didn't you wake me? I could have moved to the couch instead," he asks apologetically, still softly caressing her cheek.
"You were out like a light, couldn't get you awake," she replies dryly, a yawn escaping her mouth.
"I'm so sorry," he places a kiss on her forehead. "Will you please come back to bed with me now? I missed you."
She growls. Although she doesn't have a headache, she doesn't feel much better than he does. First being jerked out of sleep in the middle of the night by his snoring and then tossing and turning for hours on the uncomfortable sofa have left marks. She doesn't even think about getting up. Though she also missed being close to him.
"Mhhh, just come here," she reaches out and tugs on his arm as she lifts the blankets and shifts her body to the side so he can snuggle up to her.
The couch is even smaller for the two of them, but wrapped in his arms and pressed against his chest where she can breathe her favorite scent, Donna falls asleep again almost immediately. And it doesn't take him long either.
When Donna wakes up a good two hours later, she feels much better. Since she cannot sense his body next to her, she opens her eyes and finds him in front of the kitchen counter, where he is just getting two cups from the cupboard.
She gets up and approaches him, wrapping her arms tightly around him from behind.
"Besides a little too much alcohol, did you have a good time last night?" she murmurs against his bare back, placing smooches on every spot she can reach.
"I really did," he replies, still sounding a little hoarse, though at least his headache is almost gone. "Coffee?" he asks as he turns in her embrace, handing her a cup of the steaming liquid he tried a sip from first. "What would you like for breakfast? I will serve you anything you want," he adds.
Donna chuckles. "Are you feeling guilty?" she teases him. Not that he doesn't usually make their breakfast anyway. But she can read on his face that he is feeling bad because she had to sleep on the couch because of him.
"A little," he admits, eying her sheepishly.
"Pancakes would be great," she says and kisses him slowly. "And you owe me the rest of the day in bed to make up for last night."
"Agreed," he replies smugly, deepening the kiss.