Fanfic- Grammy Knows Best 3a/?
Title- Grammy Knows Best 3a/?
Fandom- Suits
Ship- Harvey/Mike
Rating- PG-13 (possibly NC-17)
Genre- first-time, romance, drama, slash
Warnings- unbetaed
Wordcount- 8,000 (3,200 part a)
Disclaimer- I do not own Suits
Chapter Summary- Mike has some trouble getting to his inerview, and Trevor is acting suspicious.
Overall Summary- Grandma Ross wants her grandson to find a new friend so he'll stop hanging out with Trevor. When Harvey Specter crashes her interviews, it might be the begining of something better than she could have hoped for.
A/N- written for a prompt here at suitsmeme for something inspired by Because I Said So
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Mike shuffled through the papers spread out on his table, checking one last time to make sure he had everything he wanted to bring to the interview: the report of his LSAT score the one time he’d taken it as himself, the report of his bar exam score, a copy of his undergraduate degree, and the record of all his grades prior to his expulsion from law school. Harvey seemed to already have some idea of Mike’s past accomplishments, but he figured it couldn’t hurt to bring proof, and anyway he felt like he needed to bring some kind of credentials with him.
Mike sighed as he scooped up the papers and slid them into his messenger bag, suddenly wishing he had something more professional-looking to carry them in. He hung the bag on the back of a chair and glanced at his watch, confirming yet again that he had plenty of time before the interview started. Mike sank into the chair and pulled the plate he had earlier shoved aside closer to himself. He poked at the scrambled eggs he’d made for a moment before jumping up again; he was too nervous to eat.
Mike paced to the door, wondering where Trevor was with the suit he’d promised to bring by. As soon as he’d thought it, though, the doorbell rang, and Mike opened it to admit Trevor with a suit thrown over his shoulder and a grin on his face. “Hey!” Trevor greeted, pushing his way past Mike. He looked over the room and nodded to the uneaten eggs and sausage links. “You make me breakfast?”
“Help yourself; I can’t eat,” Mike replied with a grimace. He took the suit from Trevor and changed into it in the bathroom, redoing the tie at least three times before he was confident it looked right. He stepped out to find that Trevor had indeed taken him up on the offer of food, having gobbled down the eggs and started on the sausage.
“Looking good!” Trevor told him, giving Mike a thumbs-up from where he sat at the table. Mike grinned nervously. Trevor stood up and came over to put his hands on Mike’s shoulders. “Hey. You can do this. C’mon, Mike, you’re a genius. Only an idiot wouldn’t hire you. Hey, didn’t I tell you everything would turn out alright?”
“Yeah,” Mike replied with a forced smile. “Yeah, you did.” He remembered that time well, even if he would have rather forgotten. After he’d been expelled, gotten caught selling a test at Trevor’s prompting, he’d been distraught. He had turned on his friend, screaming at Trevor and blaming him for his expulsion. Trevor had let him yell, had even let Mike punch him, and when Mike was done he had promised that everything would be okay.
Ever since then, Trevor had been trying to make it up to Mike. He’d sent out letters to dozens of law school without Mike’s knowledge, trying to find somewhere else that would take him in. When none of them would, he’d done everything he could to find Mike a good job, and another one when Mike lost that one, and another when he lost that one, and given him pot to help take the edge off when the whole situation became overwhelming. Trevor might have screwed up his first, best chance, but Mike couldn’t think of anyone else who would have stuck with him through that and gone to such lengths to help him afterwards. That was why he couldn’t hate Trevor for what had happened, and why he still considered Trevor his closest friend.
“Hey,” Trevor called to Mike as he turned towards the door. “Wait up.” He picked up the briefcase he’d dropped on the floor when he sat down to eat. “Here. You don’t want to take that ratty messenger bag to an interview. Briefcases make everyone look professional.”
Mike laughed and took the briefcase from him. Opening it up, he found that it had pens and lined paper inside, as well as a professional-looking business card with Mike’s name, email, and phone number printed on it. “Thanks, man,” Mike said as he sat on the couch to transfer the papers from his bag to the briefcase.
“No problem,” Trevor assured him as he sat down next to Mike. “But you know, you’ve got to give it back. First impressions are key, but after that you’ll be using the ratty messenger bag.” He grinned, and Mike nodded.
“Thanks,” Mike said again as he hung the empty messenger bag back on the chair. “You stay here and watch the place, yeah?” he asked with a knowing smile. It was just like Trevor to come by and spend the day in his apartment, watching his TV and eating his food.
“Yup,” Trevor said, stretching his legs out over the section of couch Mike had just vacated, and Mike laughed. He lifted his bike from where it hung on the wall and went out the door without saying goodbye, not bothering to lock it since he knew Trevor was inside. He felt better now, less nervous. The smooth leather of the briefcase handle felt reassuring in his palm as he thought about what Trevor had said: briefcases make everyone look professional.
Mike went down to the street and swung onto his bike, struggling to hold the handles of both the bike and the briefcase in one hand. He looked up, glancing around the street to check for traffic and pedestrians, and caught sight of a black car parked to one side of the street. The window was down, the driver smoking, and although his eyes were hidden behind sunglasses Mike got the distinct impression the man was looking at him. It put the hairs on the back of his neck up, but Mike tried to shake it off as he started down the street. He couldn’t afford to get himself worked up again before his interview.
Someone like Mike would normally have no business being in the Chilton Hotel, so he wasn’t familiar with the address. He had checked online, though, and easily memorized the route there from his apartment. It took until the third turn for Mike to realize the there was a black car behind him, identical down to the green fuzzy dice hanging from the mirror to the one that had been parked outside his apartment. Suddenly the nervous feeling was back full force, and it had nothing to do with the coming interviews.
Mike made another turn, carefully glancing behind him to see if the car followed again. It did.
Mike could feel sweat beading on the back of his neck as he wondered what the driver of the black car might want. He had never seen the man or the car before that morning, and he couldn’t think of anything he’d done lately to piss anyone off. It was possible that it had something to do with the mysterious Harvey, but Mike doubted that; he didn’t think Harvey knew his address and Mike hadn’t given it to him, so there was no way Harvey could have had a car posted outside his home. That left only one conclusion: the driver had followed Trevor to his apartment, and was following Mike now because he assumed that either money or drugs hand been handed off inside the briefcase.
If that was true, then Mike would be in danger if the driver caught him. And that would be inevitable if he let the car follow him to his destination. The way Mike saw it, he had two choices. He could drop the briefcase, and hope that they would stop to collect it and not follow him when they found no cash or drugs inside. But Mike didn’t want to risk the information in the briefcase -his name, phone number, and email- falling into their hands, and besides that, he wanted to have the briefcase in his interview. That left only one other option: try to lose the tail.
Harvey resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he escorted another prospective associate from the room where he was holding interviews. It only took a few sentences of discussion for him to know that he didn’t want to be stuck working with these people for one day, let alone the years it would take for them to advance from the position of associate.
There were some candidates that simply weren’t good choices; they had mediocre test scores and bored him in the interview. Harvey knew they probably couldn’t hack it in his world. Then there were others that seemed highly intelligent but had a certain over-politeness about them that rubbed him the wrong way and didn’t quite hide their hunger for advancement. Harvey knew the type, and knew they would be ready to stab the competition in the back at any moment. He didn’t want to work with people like that. It might not have been obvious to the casual observer, what with his seemingly self-centered attitude and the irreverence he showed Jessica, but Harvey valued loyalty above all else, and he wasn’t about to hire an associate who lacked that.
The candidates fitting those two types, however, were the minority. Most of them, while they appeared competent and eager to please and were arguably good choices, simply couldn’t impress him. Harvey didn’t just want someone who could run the errands he assigned them; he could always borrow a paralegal or an associate from the bullpen to do that. What he wanted was someone who could help him with the real legal work, and someone he would actually enjoy working with. But he was quickly losing hope of finding that person.
“Donna,” Harvey addressed his secretary in a low voice, aware of the young lawyers waiting only feet away. “We’re gonna need to streamline this. Give each guy a hard time before you send them back, and give me a wink if they say something clever. Cool?”
“Okay,” Donna said, her head cocked to the side in interest. Harvey didn’t doubt that she’d been getting bored with this process as well. “What’re you looking for?”
“Another me,” Harvey replied with a smirk that Donna returned.
As he went back into the room, Harvey checked his watch. Soon Mike Ross would be coming in, the one candidate he was actually looking forward to meeting with. He worried briefly if the kid would be able to pass Donna’s test, then decided that it didn’t matter. If he couldn’t, then Mike must not have been as promising as Harvey had thought.
Mike knew that there was no way a bike could outrun a car, but he also know that there were places a bike could go that a car couldn’t. He had the upper hand in maneuverability, and if he was going to lose this tail, he’d need it. Mike didn’t think the driver suspected he was aware of him yet, so that at least gave him the element of surprise as well. And Mike took full advantage of it when he made a sharp turn down an alley without warning.
Looking over his shoulder Mike saw the car speed up, probably to go around the block and head him off on the other side. He put on speed, dodging around piles of trash in the alleyway until he emerged onto the street. The car was nowhere in sight, but that didn’t mean much. Mike picked a street he knew was crossed with many more alleys and took off down it. He was only getting father away from his destination of Park Avenue, but that didn’t matter; if he was going to lose the tail anywhere it would be here, where the abandoned buildings and narrow passages formed by claustrophobic apartments complexes provided tons of escape routes for a lone biker, all of which he knew like the back of his hand. Besides, he didn’t want the tail to know where he was headed.
Glancing back again, Mike saw the black car pull into the intersection behind him. He heard other drivers blow their horns and knew that the man tailing him must be hesitating, trying to figure out which way he’d gone. Then the car abruptly turned in his direction and sped after him. Mike cursed and pedaled faster, calling up his mental roadmap and counting the blocks until his next chance of escape.
Mike might have been able to maneuver better than the car, but that didn’t mean much when there was no alleyway for him to duck into. The car was gaining on him, and he was breathing hard from the exertion. Mike could feel himself slowing down as his legs started to ache. He looked back desperately and saw that the car was only yards behind him. He leaned over the handle bars and forced himself to pedal faster.
Despite Mike’s efforts, the car quickly caught up and pulled alongside him, matching his speed. Mike saw the window roll down and with a thrill of terror caught sight of the gun that the man in the passenger seat was pointing at him. Whether or not they were drug dealers it was clear that these people were dangerous, and Mike made a mental note to grill Trevor about whatever he’d gotten himself into when he saw him next. If he ever saw him again.
Whoever the men were, they didn’t know these streets half as well as Mike, because they clearly weren’t expecting it when he pulled off into another alleyway that had appeared at his side. Mike heard the brakes squeal and then the engine rev. He looked back and saw with a shock that the man in the passenger seat had gotten out of the car and was chasing after him. Mike was exhausted, but he thought he at least had the energy to outrun a man on foot. Besides, the landscape was on his side, Mike thought as he turned off down yet another narrow alley that was nearly invisible behind a dumpster.
The man chased after him, turning into the next alley only seconds after Mike, but already several yards behind him. Mike could hear him yelling curses from there, followed seconds later by the thunder-like report of a gunshot. Mike ducked his head and pedaled faster, looking for another turnoff point so the man wouldn’t have a clear shot at him. The only thing coming up was an open street, but he would have to take it.
Mike turned out into the street, abruptly cutting across two lanes of traffic and pissing off several drivers. He coasted for a block before looking back. He couldn’t see the shooter, so it seemed that he’d at least lost that man. But, Mike realized with a sinking feeling as he saw the black car pull into the street behind him, he still had another to deal with.
Mike looked forward again just in time to see the light at the end of the block change from green to yellow. He estimated that it would just be turning red by the time he got there. Another backward glance confirmed that the black car was gaining on him now, swerving between lanes and around other vehicles to get closer, earning several blasts on the horn from those it passed. Mike looked up again and saw the light change to red right in front of him, but he didn’t stop. Instead he rushed past the cars that were gliding to a halt beside him and out into the crosswalk, making a taxi that had just pulled out screech to a stop and honk its horn at him. He sped up to dodge around an oncoming truck and finally pulled out of the intersection into safety.
Mike looked behind him again, breathing a sigh of relief at his narrow escape. The black car was stuck in the gridlock of other vehicles waiting at the light behind him. All the same, Mike wanted to make sure the driver had no way of knowing where he’d gone. He turned at the next corner and pulled off the street, riding up a ramp and through the open door of an abandoned building. He waited just inside the doorway for a few minutes, peeking out a broken window. Before long he saw the black car make the same turn he had and keep going down the street, the driver unaware that Mike had stopped. Mike turned away from the door and walked his bike through the maze of walls inside the house until he came to another door opening onto a different street from the one he’d pulled off of. He carried the bike down a small flight of stairs and pulled out onto the street again. The coast was clear, the car going in a completely different direction and the man on foot left far behind. Satisfied that he’d lost both tails, Mike adjusted his course and headed for Park Avenue once more.
He found his way to the hotel without any more interruptions, but the earlier detour had already made him late. Mike quickly locked up his bike and went inside, the briefcase he’d been shot at over still firmly in his hand. He passed several signs in the lobby, one of which confirmed what Harvey had told him: that Harvard law interviews were being held in room 2001 by Pearson Hardman. Mike took the elevator up to the 20th floor. His body was damp with sweat from his chase and his hands were shaking with the remnants of the adrenaline spike and the returning rush of apprehension, but he had no time to stop and attempt to make himself more presentable. Harvey had told him he would schedule Mike’s interview for ten o’clock, and Mike was already late.
He found the room easily, the crowd of nervous-looking young men in suits gathered outside the door a dead giveaway. Mike looked over them quickly and decided they didn’t look much like what he’d pictured Harvard Law graduates to be. They were hardly impressive, all his age or possibly younger, looking none too confident in the power of their degrees in a room full of people they knew -or in Mike’s case, at least assumed- were of equal standing. One guy even looked like he was about to throw up, though if he was honest Mike knew he hardly looked any better.
Mike passed through the group to look into the doorway, which he found was blocked by a woman seated at a desk. Something about her made Mike think of a dragon guarding the entrance to a horde of treasure, and he resisted the sudden urge to giggle at the thought. She looked up as he approached, eyes narrowing.
“Mike Ross?” the woman asked, and he nodded. “You are five minutes late. Is there a reason why I should let you in?” Mike blinked at her in surprise for a moment, struck by how much she reminded him of Laurie when she was dealing with a troublesome patient or family member. Where it not for the fact that this woman’s hair was red rather than black, she might have been Laurie’s twin.
The woman in question arched an eyebrow at him, and Mike realized he’d been staring without answering her. The first thing that came to mind rolled off his tongue: “Because I promise not to get into car chases with drug dealers every day before work.”
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