ocean

He's resting his eyes, tired after their last round, but he can feel her eyes on him, tracing his face, studying him in that special way only she can do.

He sits in the silence at little longer, waiting for her to say something, the words caught in the quiet and he knows she will, because she can't stay mum for too long.

Then, he feels her hand cup his jawline, her fingers running over the curves and contours of his face and her thumb reach up to trace over the moles along his forehead, right above his eyebrow and into his hair, and his eyes open at the feeling.

"May I help you?" He says, teasingly.

She stays quiet, just smirking, and he can tell she's having trouble holding back. After another moment, she finally breaks and asks, "Harvey?"

"Yes, Donna," he retorts in amusement.

"You remember that Brooklyn hippie chick you dated for like a week that tried to make you grow out your hair?" She questions, taking him by surprise.

"Um," he thinks, "What was her name Rain? Dawn?" he ponders, truly not remembering.

"Ocean, Harvey. Her name was Ocean," Donna says, rolling her eyes.

"Ocean. Right," he nods in agreement. "What about her?"

"I'm really glad you didn't listen to her," she responds, hands still running through his short hair. "I've always liked it shorter on you."

"Always, huh?" He teases, grinning, reveling in the moments where she slips little nuggets of her past feelings out.

"Ugh," Donna says, blushing slightly. "I'm just saying, I like your hair."

"Will a ditto suffice here?" He says, grin still in place, rolling over and pulling her beneath him. He know she's tired after the eventful night they've had in bed but he's hoping he can sneak one more out of her before they fall asleep.

"You're an idiot," She says, pulling him down, lips meeting his to shut him up.