"Good morning, happy anniversary," he smiles before pressing his lips into hers, not failing to notice the way her eyes flash with shock as he leans in.
"Happy anniversary," she replies in a tone of impressed surprise and he mentally pats himself in the back for eliciting this reaction from her; getting things past Donna is never an easy feat.
"What, thought I'd forget?" he smirks, making his way to the closet to pick his suit while she continues to apply her makeup in the bedroom vanity.
Donna balks a little. "Well, it's not like you're great at remembering important dates."
He thinks about how, while she's not wrong, he's also never forgotten a single one of their important dates: the day she moved to his desk, The Other Time, the day she came with him to Pearson Hardman, the day they finally got together, now their wedding day. He has a whole calendar in his mind dedicated to them, and he celebrates each of those anniversaries, either in practice or in thought, every year. His musings are too cheesy to share out loud, though, so he just opens his tie drawer. "It's my wedding date, what kind of husband would I be if I forgot that?"
"In that case, have you decided what you're getting me yet?" her voice comes from the bedroom. "This year's cotton."
"What?" he asks, bringing the outfit he chose to the bed and moving to untie his sneakers.
"This year is our cotton anniversary," she says matter-of-factly, glancing at him over her shoulder.
"What the hell is a cotton anniversary?" he frowns, taking off his sweatshirt.
She rolls her eyes. "Fifty years is gold, twenty-five is silver, two is cotton."
"That's so stupid, who even comes up with this stuff," it's his turn to roll his eyes.
"Hm, your little 'good husband' act didn't last long, huh?" she mock-complains, walking over to the closet to slip on her heels.
"I am a good husband, I just think these traditions are stupid," he says, and it comes out a little more defensive than intended, which he hopes she didn't notice.
"If you were a really good husband, you'd be thinking of the tasteful, yet thoughtful gift you'd pick to relate to our cotton anniversary," she ribs him, stepping back into the bedroom, ready for work.
"Fine, I'll get you a cotton T-shirt or something," he marches up to her and gives her a final smooch before redirecting to the bathroom to take a shower.
"Romantic," she calls out, and her tone alone is enough to show him exactly what she thinks of his suggestion.
"You know me," he jokes back, grinning to himself at his uncanny ability to annoy her.
"Ugh, I'll see you tonight," she groans and leaves for the office.
.
.
.
He waits for her in their bedroom, body thrumming with excitement to see her reaction, and he can see surprise and confusion written all over her face when she spots what he prepared for her.
"What is your problem?" she asks after a moment, wide eyes finding his, a small wrinkle between her brows.
"Well, you seemed so invested in the cotton anniversary thing, I thought I'd surprise you," he smirks smugly, burying his hands in his pockets as he glances at their bed and the floor, both sprinkled with dozens and dozens of cotton balls, spread around like flower petals. He's struggling to keep a semi-straight face because this might just be the most ridiculous thing he's ever done, but he wants to keep up the act to see how she'll react.
Donna just takes another incredulous look around the room and shakes her head. "I hope you know you'll be the one cleaning this up."
He snorts as she makes her way to the bathroom to freshen up before their dinner. "Happy anniversary to you too, honey!"
"You're the worst, why did I marry you?" she wonders aloud, and he can hear her spraying on some perfume.
"I was trying to be romantic," he complains, stepping into the bathroom to watch her getting ready.
"In what world does romance equate to cotton balls thrown all over the floor?" she shoots him an exasperated look.
"You know, you're proving to be a lot more high maintenance than I thought," he crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes at her playfully.
"Getting buyer's remorse?" she quirks a brow at him through the mirror.
Never, he thinks, but he's enjoying their banter. "Sadly, two years is too late for a return."
Donna snickers as she finishes reapplying her lipstick. "Just you try giving me back," she says mischievously, stopping in front of him to kiss him, her hand squeezing his arm a sign that she's just as amused as him.
"You ready to go?" she asks when she pulls back.
Harvey nods and steps aside for her to lead the way, taking a moment to appreciate the fact that he's now had two years of this, and he'll still have so many more.