Here & Now (1/2)
Title: Here & Now
Rating: FRT
Characters/Pairings: Mike/Harvey: Donna, Grammy Ross
Words: ~3300
Spoilers: 1.01
Warnings: It's all a little cracky; Pre-slash
Summary: There's something about Harvey, something familiar that Mike kinda felt he should be able to work out. When his douchey fellow associates decide his life needs to be a little less colourful, things start to slot back into place (Past Chapters should be read first)
Disclaimer: I don't own Mike, Harvey or any of the other characters or show content - kudos goes to USA network.
A/N: This is a follow on fic to Past Chapters, so that really needs to be read if this fic is to make any real sense at all! I'm halfway through the second chapter now and I'm planning a third fic in the series to deal with everything as it should be =)
X-posted at my AO3
---
Here & Now: Chapter 1
If Mike had been on edge as he was lead into the interview room, that was nothing compared to how he felt as the weed spilled out onto the floor. His gut had already been telling him that it was a bad idea to talk to this Mr. Specter, but he was convinced that having a briefcase of high-grade pot with him would be catastrophic.
Things had gone into slow motion as the vacuum sealed packets skittered across the carpet and he could do nothing but stare at them, then up at Specter and back down. To make matters worse, there was feeling a faint feeling of deja-vu welling somewhere behind his tongue and he couldn't pin-point it.
But just as he'd started to focus on it, time had sped right back to normal and then some - and before he fully knew what was happening, he was memorising a list of things to do over the next week and his deja-vu was all but forgotten.
*
When Mike was six, a few months after his parents' funeral, his Gram to him to see a doctor. It wasn't for anything serious, but it had become clear to Mary Ross that her grandson was struggling with everything that had happened.
He never spoke about anyone from his old building or his old school and when she mentioned someone, he looked at her a little blankly before changing the subject - even when she tried to ask him about those two nice boys who'd lived down the hall from him and his parents.
The doctor told her that he had an eidetic memory and what was happening was tied to it. The memories were likely just too painful and vivid for his six year old brain to cope with. He didn't have any trouble remembering his parents, but he had so many memories of them that the emotions they brought up were all he could deal with. Everything else had just been left at the wayside. Only time would tell whether they were permanently lost, but she really shouldn't worry, he was coping with his grief remarkably well.
Mary took Mike home that evening and made him his favourite macaroni cheese for dinner. Mike hugged her extra hard before she turned out the light that evening.
*
For the first couple of weeks at PearsonHardman, Mike's nerves had been shot to hell. He was sure he would be found out at any moment and chased from the building by security guards - although it never did happen, at least not yet.
He worked harder than he'd ever thought was possible and, as the weeks turned into months, he found his confidence growing. He was good at what he was doing and he enjoyed it. He enjoyed the cases, the research, he enjoyed the satisfaction at the end of a deal and he enjoyed working with Harvey. Yes, he was a dick sometimes, but he was also the most intelligent person Mike had ever had the fortune to meet and he was free of almost all the pretentions that seemed rife in the rest of the firm.
Harvey wasn't just intelligent, he was smart. He was polished and primed like every other lawyer, but underneath there was a knowledge of the way the real world worked, not just the one inhabited by Harvard graduates and the clients. He knew his sports intimately and his approach to things spoke of a history that maybe wasn't as easy as those around him.
There was something familiar about him, though Mike wasn't entirely sure that it wasn't just wishful thinking on his behalf. It wasn't until something exceptionally unimportant happened at around the seven month mark that things started to slot back into place.
Louis had called him to his office one afternoon, right as he'd been in the middle of proofing one of the most poorly constructed merger deals he'd seen so far. He'd had to construct a new system of coloured highlighters to cover the various areas of problems and the document was starting to look a little like a kid's colouring book.
Still, he'd capped the marker he was using and followed Louis out of the bullpen, listening dutifully as he rattled on about something that was vastly unimportant. He flexed his fingers in and out of fists as he waited for Louis to get to the point - which turned out to be that wouldn't need the files he'd given him earlier, wrapped in multiple layers of preening and self-congratulation. That was fine by Mike, he hadn't even touched them yet, and in the least offensive way possible, he edged out and back to his desk.
As he turned the corner, he was aware of half a dozen eyes turning to him, anticipation practically oozing from them. He walked calmly to his desk and, lo and behold, his highlighters were gone. He sighed and rolled his eyes.
He paused for a moment, running through his options and settled on picking up his pencil and a variety of biros to finish the document off. His highlighters really weren't worth the hassle of confronting the others and the fall-out that would inevitably consume the next few weeks. They weren't new and a couple of them were running out anyway - he'd just pick up a new pack at the weekend.
He finished proofing the deal a few hours later and, noting the looks of annoyance on Kyle and Gregory's faces as he passed, went through to Harvey's office to drop it off.
“Is that the Denison merger?” He asked, holding his hand out without looking up from his laptop.
“Yeah, it's appalling.” Mike slapped it into his grip and dropped into the chair across the desk from him.
“I'm not surprised, Hatcher's attorney can barely find his way out of a disclaimer.” Mike snorted at that and Harvey glanced up, finally giving him his attention. He sat back and flicked through the merger deal and Mike noticed a smile creeping into the muscles around Harvey's mouth as he scanned over the multi-coloured pages. The now familiar feeling of slight deja-vu snuck into his mouth as he watched Harvey's reaction.
He also didn't fail to notice the frown that flickered across his face as he reached the pages that marked the theft of his highlighters, but the pages kept flipping and Harvey glanced up again.
“What happened to the rainbow, rookie?” He raised an eyebrow as Mike shrugged, looking down at his feet. There was an itch in his brain that he couldn't decipher, but he knew that expression on Harvey's face and he knew how he should react to it.
“Oh, they're uh...” He paused, trying valiantly not to feel like a little kid caught sneaking cookies, “Louis called me to his office and when I got back they'd... gone for a walk.”
He frowned slightly but looked back up at Harvey resolutely. He was surprised, however, to find a strangely soft expression on his face that was something like pity and understanding. Mike wasn't sure why, but it made a knot in his chest ease.
Then the moment was gone and Harvey threw a new file at him.
“I need a watertight precedent argument for my meeting tomorrow afternoon. Get Rachel to help you.” Signalling the end of the conversation, Mike got up and headed back to his desk.
-
Later that night as he lay in bed, the itch in his mind started up again and he found himself recalling one of his earliest memories.
He'd been sitting at the kitchen table, watching his mom cooking dinner and drawing with the ends of his pack of crayons. Almost all of them had been worn down to stubs in a matter of weeks. His dad had come home that evening and dropped something onto his pile of drawings. After a moment or two, Mike had leapt up, grabbing the mark pens and running round the kitchen to show his mom. They'd laughed so hard at him and his dad had scooped him up into a bear hug and he'd spent the entire evening drawing with the new pens.
None of that was new, he'd always remembered that evening, but as the memory progressed, he was aware of something else worming its way to the front of his mind. It was something about the pens and, yes, he remembered the kids on the bottom floor asking to borrow them and not giving them back.
Cookies. They'd said he could only trade them for cookies, but he didn't have any on him, so he'd raided the kitchen when his mom was in her room. It would take him a couple of minutes, tops, to run downstairs and trade them for his pens.
He'd darted out of the apartment passing someone at the top of the stairs just as he landed funny on his foot and pitched forwards. He'd barely had time to understand that he was about to fall when he was jerked sharply back and set on his feet - just as the cookies tumbled out of his precariously stuffed bag.
A strong hand, a gentle expression and a feeling of complete trust-- he shut the memory down sharply as he recognised Harvey's face looking down at him. Harvey as a teenager, dark blonde hair, baseball top, living down the hall from him.
Mike could feel his heart hammering in his chest, a lump forming somewhere in the region of his throat and making it hard to swallow.
His brain was trying to push all his long forgotten memories of Harvey to the surface, but he wasn't ready to deal with them. He wasn't ready to face this strange new reality just yet.
Instead, he focussed on the past few months, the times he'd caught a strange expression on Harvey's face, even the long, calculating looks he'd found himself on the end of. He registered the familial exchanges and now acknowledged them for what they were.
He rubbed the heels of his hands hard into his eyes and rolled over, determined to get a little sleep before having to face Harvey again. There was very little doubt in his mind that Harvey knew exactly who he was and had known from the moment he'd walked into that interview room as Rick Sorkin.
Shit.
-
The next morning, Mike got into work earlier than usual and spent roughly three minutes locating and liberating his highlighters.
He took them and his collected research to Harvey's office and sat on the couch as he finished up the labelling of the precedents. Donna arrived about half an hour later, shooting him a look as she came into the office as well.
“He wanted to see me first thing and this way, he will.” Mike said before she could even comment and he thought he saw a twitch of a smile as she took the seat Harvey usually sat in.
“I see you rescued your highlighters.” She smirked slightly and Mike raised an eyebrow. “I glanced through the file and Harvey filled me in as I was typing it up.”
And just like that, Mike knew he couldn't tell Harvey, not yet. They weren't ready for that conversation.
-
Over the next month or two, Mike began to pay more attention, his early childhood starting to reform neatly in his mind; he could remember evenings spent reading with Harvey, nights he babysat him, high-fives as they passed on the stairs.
He remembered summers in the park when his dad tried to teach him soccer and baseball, Harvey helping out when he'd finished coaching. He remembered Harvey's brother, Aaron, teaching him how to play the piano. His mom had been so proud of him when he'd shown her the tune they'd spent a whole month working on.
As the days and weeks passed and the anniversary grew closer, the sad things came back to him too; the kids on the bottom floor who knocked into or tripped him whenever they could, the look on Harvey's darkening expression when Mike explained his scuffed knees. He remembered the tired, drawn look on his dad's face, not seeing him for days on end because he left early and got back late. He remembered the hug he got, from both of them, on that evening as they said goodbye.
Whenever his thoughts got that close, he clamped them down and shut them away. He wasn't going to recall that night, not unless he could help it. He'd managed more than twenty years without that memory and he didn't need it now.
Instead he focussed on just how fucked-up his new Harvey-senses were making him. He was no longer just noticing his reactions and the flickers of recognition and remembrance, but he was also becoming painfully aware of the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled properly. The way his grin grew slowly, or the way his whole body went still when he was pissed off.
Mike found himself cataloguing what made him laugh and he was starting to get a grasp of the type of films he liked and why, thanks to the constant quotes he dropped into conversations. He could say exactly how he liked his coffee, though he refused to get his order right on principal - no coffee should be more than five words long and Mike was not his slave, though he suspected Harvey was messing him around a little with that.
He'd worked out, painstakingly, what Harvey looked like when he was tired, when he'd reached the end of his concentration and needed to get some sleep. He knew how he looked when he needed to get out of a meeting before he decked the client.
Mike was becoming increasingly aware of this new attachment to Harvey and he wasn't entirely sure how healthy it was. This was a guy who'd been around since before he was born, had seen - if not helped with - diaper changes and who most likely knew that sweetcorn had made him throw up until he was five.
But at the same time, Harvey wasn't the same person. If it weren't for the occasional slip in his manicured façade, Mike would never be able to reconcile the easy going teenager with the slick adult who was so much more careful with his emotions.
Still, after almost ten months working with him, Mike still hadn't heard him mention that part of his life. Once, very late in the day when everyone else had gone, he'd walked past Harvey's office to hear him talking on the phone with his feet propped up on his desk, about as close to relaxed at was possible. He laughed freely and Mike heard some snippet of a discussion on music and wagered Aaron was on the other end. Apart from that, Harvey Specter was a mystery and Mike was pretty sure that was just how he wanted it.
-
The anniversary of his parents' deaths fell on a Friday that year. He'd deliberated for a while and finally decided to suck it up and ask for the afternoon off. He had a feeling that everything would come to light that weekend, one way or another.
It was the Wednesday before by the time he'd bolstered himself enough to say anything. He gripped the files he'd finished in his hand and headed into Harvey's office with a wave to Donna as he passed.
“Yes, Rookie?” Harvey looked up, a finger pressed to his lips as he looked at Mike expectantly. Mike frowned slightly before handing over the files and withdrawing a couple of feet. He shoved his hands in his pockets to stop from fidgeting.
“I was wondering if I could have Friday afternoon.” Mike glanced at Harvey and the effect was instantaneous. It was a flash, barely a ghost in his expression, but Mike had learnt enough about him to read it.
“Anything in particular, or do you just fancy an early start on the drinking?” Harvey cocked an eyebrow and Mike smiled slightly.
“It's a family thing, but it's kind of important.” Mike stared at Harvey then, the other man meeting his gaze and lingering for a little longer than was entirely comfortable. Still, he nodded an looked back down at the files.
“Fine, just let me know when you're going and make sure the Goya briefs are ready before Monday.” He flicked a hand and Mike swivelled on his heel, heading back to his desk. As he sat down, he let out the breath he'd been holding and tried not to think about how much his hands were shaking.
-
Each year on the anniversary, without fail, Mike woke outrageously early, shaking and gasping at the air as a phantom dream played havoc on his system. He never remembered what it was, but the adrenaline coursing through him at around four in the morning was enough to ensure he wouldn't go back to sleep any time soon.
This year was no different - but this year, four in the morning wasn't too far away from his normal hour.
He sank back against the pillows and forced his eyes closed and his mind clear for a long moment. When his heart rate had settled, he pushed himself up and started to go about his usual morning routine. With any luck, he would be able to use this extra time to his advantage.
He got to the office an hour early, even having stopped to get breakfast, and coffee for himself and Donna. He took his time, dropping his own drink at his desk, slinging his bag onto his chair before heading round to Harvey's office. He was about to turn the corner when he heard quiet voices coming from somewhere near Donna's station.
“You've never told me to go easy on him before.” She didn't sound impressed.
“Well, this is different. This is important.” Harvey replied.
“Seriously, Harvey, I'll deflect any and all shit that flies in the kid's direction - and I already stop a lot of it - but why are you asking?” It sounded like the conversation was going round in circles, like she'd been trying to get an answer for a while now.
“Because it's him, Donna.” He sounded tired. “Because if I were him, and today was the anniversary of my life falling apart, I would need all the help I could get.”
There was no reply, but after a few moments Mike heard soft footsteps and the gently thunk of Harvey's door closing. He heard Donna sigh slightly and quietly went back to his desk, her coffee still in his hand.
He sat down, lined the two coffees up neatly and placed his hands flat on the desk on either side. He thought things through for a few minutes, something slowly beginning to wind in his chest. He considered the drinks - Donna's just how she liked it, his own in a state that Harvey would find at least partially palatable.
Eventually, he got to his feet and carried the drinks back round to Harvey's office. He handed Donna's over, smiling and resisting the urge to congratulate her on keeping all traces of pity out of her expression. Then he went into Harvey's office, setting the coffee on the desk. Harvey glanced at him, his expression almost bored.
Mike paused for a moment, turned to leave before twisting back around.
“You know,” He began, Harvey looking up at him slowly, “you should come with me to the cemetery later. You and my dad got on pretty well and they don't get all that many visitors these days.”
He met Harvey's eyes, saw the panic hidden neatly behind his slight, carefully honed condescension, then turned away and left the office. He ignored the stare Donna levelled at him and carried straight on to his desk. With his mind clear, he pulled up the Goya briefs on his computer and got to work.
Half an hour later, his phone buzzed and he opened up a text from Harvey.
12 pm. I'll meet you outside.
---
TBC - will post within the next week or so =)
Rating: FRT
Characters/Pairings: Mike/Harvey: Donna, Grammy Ross
Words: ~3300
Spoilers: 1.01
Warnings: It's all a little cracky; Pre-slash
Summary: There's something about Harvey, something familiar that Mike kinda felt he should be able to work out. When his douchey fellow associates decide his life needs to be a little less colourful, things start to slot back into place (Past Chapters should be read first)
Disclaimer: I don't own Mike, Harvey or any of the other characters or show content - kudos goes to USA network.
A/N: This is a follow on fic to Past Chapters, so that really needs to be read if this fic is to make any real sense at all! I'm halfway through the second chapter now and I'm planning a third fic in the series to deal with everything as it should be =)
X-posted at my AO3
---
Here & Now: Chapter 1
If Mike had been on edge as he was lead into the interview room, that was nothing compared to how he felt as the weed spilled out onto the floor. His gut had already been telling him that it was a bad idea to talk to this Mr. Specter, but he was convinced that having a briefcase of high-grade pot with him would be catastrophic.
Things had gone into slow motion as the vacuum sealed packets skittered across the carpet and he could do nothing but stare at them, then up at Specter and back down. To make matters worse, there was feeling a faint feeling of deja-vu welling somewhere behind his tongue and he couldn't pin-point it.
But just as he'd started to focus on it, time had sped right back to normal and then some - and before he fully knew what was happening, he was memorising a list of things to do over the next week and his deja-vu was all but forgotten.
*
When Mike was six, a few months after his parents' funeral, his Gram to him to see a doctor. It wasn't for anything serious, but it had become clear to Mary Ross that her grandson was struggling with everything that had happened.
He never spoke about anyone from his old building or his old school and when she mentioned someone, he looked at her a little blankly before changing the subject - even when she tried to ask him about those two nice boys who'd lived down the hall from him and his parents.
The doctor told her that he had an eidetic memory and what was happening was tied to it. The memories were likely just too painful and vivid for his six year old brain to cope with. He didn't have any trouble remembering his parents, but he had so many memories of them that the emotions they brought up were all he could deal with. Everything else had just been left at the wayside. Only time would tell whether they were permanently lost, but she really shouldn't worry, he was coping with his grief remarkably well.
Mary took Mike home that evening and made him his favourite macaroni cheese for dinner. Mike hugged her extra hard before she turned out the light that evening.
*
For the first couple of weeks at PearsonHardman, Mike's nerves had been shot to hell. He was sure he would be found out at any moment and chased from the building by security guards - although it never did happen, at least not yet.
He worked harder than he'd ever thought was possible and, as the weeks turned into months, he found his confidence growing. He was good at what he was doing and he enjoyed it. He enjoyed the cases, the research, he enjoyed the satisfaction at the end of a deal and he enjoyed working with Harvey. Yes, he was a dick sometimes, but he was also the most intelligent person Mike had ever had the fortune to meet and he was free of almost all the pretentions that seemed rife in the rest of the firm.
Harvey wasn't just intelligent, he was smart. He was polished and primed like every other lawyer, but underneath there was a knowledge of the way the real world worked, not just the one inhabited by Harvard graduates and the clients. He knew his sports intimately and his approach to things spoke of a history that maybe wasn't as easy as those around him.
There was something familiar about him, though Mike wasn't entirely sure that it wasn't just wishful thinking on his behalf. It wasn't until something exceptionally unimportant happened at around the seven month mark that things started to slot back into place.
Louis had called him to his office one afternoon, right as he'd been in the middle of proofing one of the most poorly constructed merger deals he'd seen so far. He'd had to construct a new system of coloured highlighters to cover the various areas of problems and the document was starting to look a little like a kid's colouring book.
Still, he'd capped the marker he was using and followed Louis out of the bullpen, listening dutifully as he rattled on about something that was vastly unimportant. He flexed his fingers in and out of fists as he waited for Louis to get to the point - which turned out to be that wouldn't need the files he'd given him earlier, wrapped in multiple layers of preening and self-congratulation. That was fine by Mike, he hadn't even touched them yet, and in the least offensive way possible, he edged out and back to his desk.
As he turned the corner, he was aware of half a dozen eyes turning to him, anticipation practically oozing from them. He walked calmly to his desk and, lo and behold, his highlighters were gone. He sighed and rolled his eyes.
He paused for a moment, running through his options and settled on picking up his pencil and a variety of biros to finish the document off. His highlighters really weren't worth the hassle of confronting the others and the fall-out that would inevitably consume the next few weeks. They weren't new and a couple of them were running out anyway - he'd just pick up a new pack at the weekend.
He finished proofing the deal a few hours later and, noting the looks of annoyance on Kyle and Gregory's faces as he passed, went through to Harvey's office to drop it off.
“Is that the Denison merger?” He asked, holding his hand out without looking up from his laptop.
“Yeah, it's appalling.” Mike slapped it into his grip and dropped into the chair across the desk from him.
“I'm not surprised, Hatcher's attorney can barely find his way out of a disclaimer.” Mike snorted at that and Harvey glanced up, finally giving him his attention. He sat back and flicked through the merger deal and Mike noticed a smile creeping into the muscles around Harvey's mouth as he scanned over the multi-coloured pages. The now familiar feeling of slight deja-vu snuck into his mouth as he watched Harvey's reaction.
He also didn't fail to notice the frown that flickered across his face as he reached the pages that marked the theft of his highlighters, but the pages kept flipping and Harvey glanced up again.
“What happened to the rainbow, rookie?” He raised an eyebrow as Mike shrugged, looking down at his feet. There was an itch in his brain that he couldn't decipher, but he knew that expression on Harvey's face and he knew how he should react to it.
“Oh, they're uh...” He paused, trying valiantly not to feel like a little kid caught sneaking cookies, “Louis called me to his office and when I got back they'd... gone for a walk.”
He frowned slightly but looked back up at Harvey resolutely. He was surprised, however, to find a strangely soft expression on his face that was something like pity and understanding. Mike wasn't sure why, but it made a knot in his chest ease.
Then the moment was gone and Harvey threw a new file at him.
“I need a watertight precedent argument for my meeting tomorrow afternoon. Get Rachel to help you.” Signalling the end of the conversation, Mike got up and headed back to his desk.
-
Later that night as he lay in bed, the itch in his mind started up again and he found himself recalling one of his earliest memories.
He'd been sitting at the kitchen table, watching his mom cooking dinner and drawing with the ends of his pack of crayons. Almost all of them had been worn down to stubs in a matter of weeks. His dad had come home that evening and dropped something onto his pile of drawings. After a moment or two, Mike had leapt up, grabbing the mark pens and running round the kitchen to show his mom. They'd laughed so hard at him and his dad had scooped him up into a bear hug and he'd spent the entire evening drawing with the new pens.
None of that was new, he'd always remembered that evening, but as the memory progressed, he was aware of something else worming its way to the front of his mind. It was something about the pens and, yes, he remembered the kids on the bottom floor asking to borrow them and not giving them back.
Cookies. They'd said he could only trade them for cookies, but he didn't have any on him, so he'd raided the kitchen when his mom was in her room. It would take him a couple of minutes, tops, to run downstairs and trade them for his pens.
He'd darted out of the apartment passing someone at the top of the stairs just as he landed funny on his foot and pitched forwards. He'd barely had time to understand that he was about to fall when he was jerked sharply back and set on his feet - just as the cookies tumbled out of his precariously stuffed bag.
A strong hand, a gentle expression and a feeling of complete trust-- he shut the memory down sharply as he recognised Harvey's face looking down at him. Harvey as a teenager, dark blonde hair, baseball top, living down the hall from him.
Mike could feel his heart hammering in his chest, a lump forming somewhere in the region of his throat and making it hard to swallow.
His brain was trying to push all his long forgotten memories of Harvey to the surface, but he wasn't ready to deal with them. He wasn't ready to face this strange new reality just yet.
Instead, he focussed on the past few months, the times he'd caught a strange expression on Harvey's face, even the long, calculating looks he'd found himself on the end of. He registered the familial exchanges and now acknowledged them for what they were.
He rubbed the heels of his hands hard into his eyes and rolled over, determined to get a little sleep before having to face Harvey again. There was very little doubt in his mind that Harvey knew exactly who he was and had known from the moment he'd walked into that interview room as Rick Sorkin.
Shit.
-
The next morning, Mike got into work earlier than usual and spent roughly three minutes locating and liberating his highlighters.
He took them and his collected research to Harvey's office and sat on the couch as he finished up the labelling of the precedents. Donna arrived about half an hour later, shooting him a look as she came into the office as well.
“He wanted to see me first thing and this way, he will.” Mike said before she could even comment and he thought he saw a twitch of a smile as she took the seat Harvey usually sat in.
“I see you rescued your highlighters.” She smirked slightly and Mike raised an eyebrow. “I glanced through the file and Harvey filled me in as I was typing it up.”
And just like that, Mike knew he couldn't tell Harvey, not yet. They weren't ready for that conversation.
-
Over the next month or two, Mike began to pay more attention, his early childhood starting to reform neatly in his mind; he could remember evenings spent reading with Harvey, nights he babysat him, high-fives as they passed on the stairs.
He remembered summers in the park when his dad tried to teach him soccer and baseball, Harvey helping out when he'd finished coaching. He remembered Harvey's brother, Aaron, teaching him how to play the piano. His mom had been so proud of him when he'd shown her the tune they'd spent a whole month working on.
As the days and weeks passed and the anniversary grew closer, the sad things came back to him too; the kids on the bottom floor who knocked into or tripped him whenever they could, the look on Harvey's darkening expression when Mike explained his scuffed knees. He remembered the tired, drawn look on his dad's face, not seeing him for days on end because he left early and got back late. He remembered the hug he got, from both of them, on that evening as they said goodbye.
Whenever his thoughts got that close, he clamped them down and shut them away. He wasn't going to recall that night, not unless he could help it. He'd managed more than twenty years without that memory and he didn't need it now.
Instead he focussed on just how fucked-up his new Harvey-senses were making him. He was no longer just noticing his reactions and the flickers of recognition and remembrance, but he was also becoming painfully aware of the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled properly. The way his grin grew slowly, or the way his whole body went still when he was pissed off.
Mike found himself cataloguing what made him laugh and he was starting to get a grasp of the type of films he liked and why, thanks to the constant quotes he dropped into conversations. He could say exactly how he liked his coffee, though he refused to get his order right on principal - no coffee should be more than five words long and Mike was not his slave, though he suspected Harvey was messing him around a little with that.
He'd worked out, painstakingly, what Harvey looked like when he was tired, when he'd reached the end of his concentration and needed to get some sleep. He knew how he looked when he needed to get out of a meeting before he decked the client.
Mike was becoming increasingly aware of this new attachment to Harvey and he wasn't entirely sure how healthy it was. This was a guy who'd been around since before he was born, had seen - if not helped with - diaper changes and who most likely knew that sweetcorn had made him throw up until he was five.
But at the same time, Harvey wasn't the same person. If it weren't for the occasional slip in his manicured façade, Mike would never be able to reconcile the easy going teenager with the slick adult who was so much more careful with his emotions.
Still, after almost ten months working with him, Mike still hadn't heard him mention that part of his life. Once, very late in the day when everyone else had gone, he'd walked past Harvey's office to hear him talking on the phone with his feet propped up on his desk, about as close to relaxed at was possible. He laughed freely and Mike heard some snippet of a discussion on music and wagered Aaron was on the other end. Apart from that, Harvey Specter was a mystery and Mike was pretty sure that was just how he wanted it.
-
The anniversary of his parents' deaths fell on a Friday that year. He'd deliberated for a while and finally decided to suck it up and ask for the afternoon off. He had a feeling that everything would come to light that weekend, one way or another.
It was the Wednesday before by the time he'd bolstered himself enough to say anything. He gripped the files he'd finished in his hand and headed into Harvey's office with a wave to Donna as he passed.
“Yes, Rookie?” Harvey looked up, a finger pressed to his lips as he looked at Mike expectantly. Mike frowned slightly before handing over the files and withdrawing a couple of feet. He shoved his hands in his pockets to stop from fidgeting.
“I was wondering if I could have Friday afternoon.” Mike glanced at Harvey and the effect was instantaneous. It was a flash, barely a ghost in his expression, but Mike had learnt enough about him to read it.
“Anything in particular, or do you just fancy an early start on the drinking?” Harvey cocked an eyebrow and Mike smiled slightly.
“It's a family thing, but it's kind of important.” Mike stared at Harvey then, the other man meeting his gaze and lingering for a little longer than was entirely comfortable. Still, he nodded an looked back down at the files.
“Fine, just let me know when you're going and make sure the Goya briefs are ready before Monday.” He flicked a hand and Mike swivelled on his heel, heading back to his desk. As he sat down, he let out the breath he'd been holding and tried not to think about how much his hands were shaking.
-
Each year on the anniversary, without fail, Mike woke outrageously early, shaking and gasping at the air as a phantom dream played havoc on his system. He never remembered what it was, but the adrenaline coursing through him at around four in the morning was enough to ensure he wouldn't go back to sleep any time soon.
This year was no different - but this year, four in the morning wasn't too far away from his normal hour.
He sank back against the pillows and forced his eyes closed and his mind clear for a long moment. When his heart rate had settled, he pushed himself up and started to go about his usual morning routine. With any luck, he would be able to use this extra time to his advantage.
He got to the office an hour early, even having stopped to get breakfast, and coffee for himself and Donna. He took his time, dropping his own drink at his desk, slinging his bag onto his chair before heading round to Harvey's office. He was about to turn the corner when he heard quiet voices coming from somewhere near Donna's station.
“You've never told me to go easy on him before.” She didn't sound impressed.
“Well, this is different. This is important.” Harvey replied.
“Seriously, Harvey, I'll deflect any and all shit that flies in the kid's direction - and I already stop a lot of it - but why are you asking?” It sounded like the conversation was going round in circles, like she'd been trying to get an answer for a while now.
“Because it's him, Donna.” He sounded tired. “Because if I were him, and today was the anniversary of my life falling apart, I would need all the help I could get.”
There was no reply, but after a few moments Mike heard soft footsteps and the gently thunk of Harvey's door closing. He heard Donna sigh slightly and quietly went back to his desk, her coffee still in his hand.
He sat down, lined the two coffees up neatly and placed his hands flat on the desk on either side. He thought things through for a few minutes, something slowly beginning to wind in his chest. He considered the drinks - Donna's just how she liked it, his own in a state that Harvey would find at least partially palatable.
Eventually, he got to his feet and carried the drinks back round to Harvey's office. He handed Donna's over, smiling and resisting the urge to congratulate her on keeping all traces of pity out of her expression. Then he went into Harvey's office, setting the coffee on the desk. Harvey glanced at him, his expression almost bored.
Mike paused for a moment, turned to leave before twisting back around.
“You know,” He began, Harvey looking up at him slowly, “you should come with me to the cemetery later. You and my dad got on pretty well and they don't get all that many visitors these days.”
He met Harvey's eyes, saw the panic hidden neatly behind his slight, carefully honed condescension, then turned away and left the office. He ignored the stare Donna levelled at him and carried straight on to his desk. With his mind clear, he pulled up the Goya briefs on his computer and got to work.
Half an hour later, his phone buzzed and he opened up a text from Harvey.
12 pm. I'll meet you outside.
---
TBC - will post within the next week or so =)