More then the Typical Kind of Thing 1/?
SUMMARY
Familial Bond Units-four or more people that live in a cohesive family unit who aren't necessarily blood-related. Most everyone calls them Packs, though.
Micheal Ross never thought he'd be part of a Pack again after his previous one perished. He assumed he'd be a Loner for the rest of his life. That is, until he meets Rachel Zane and, by extension, her sinfully hot Pack leader.
(Or, the one where Mike graduates from Harvard, passes the bar, and spends three and a half years traveling the world with a fraction of his paternal grandparents' money only to come back to New York lost and lonely and in need of a home.)
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AUTHOR NOTES
• This is a story told in pieces both long and short and occasionally medium-sized, as well.
• I know nothing of lawyer logistics and crime law and procedures except that which I've picked up from Suits and the other 20+ criminal justice shows I watch.
• Which is admittedly not that much, since mostly I just gawk at the hot men on screen and devise mental fanfiction to have them sleep with one another.
• This is my first Suits fanfiction. Constructive criticism is welcomed, but be nice about it, please.
• This is an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE story. That means the characters will be slightly different from their onscreen personas, so please don't get all huffy at me because I HAVE NOW WARNED YOU.
• This story contains slash, femslash, and a few OCs. Again, I HAVE WARNED YOU.
• The pairings I've (so far) decided on are: Mike/Harvey, Donna/Rachel, and some OFC/OMC later down the road (it won't be showcased that much). There may be more in the future.
• Story and chapter titles are taken from lyrics of whatever song I'm listening to when I start one. Brownie points to those who get the chapter titles and potentially a fic request from the first person to guess the story's.
XxxxxxxxxX
More then the Typical Kind of Thing
by thehyperactivesammich
One: (Get No) Satisfaction
"Ladies and gentlemen, we will be arriving at JFK in approximately twenty-five minutes. If you could please turn off all electronics and stow away your carry-ons in their proper positions. Trayback tables and seats should be..."
The sound of the stewardess' voice droned off as Mike turned off his iPod and shoved it in his backpack stowed under the seat in front of him. He turned to look at the flight attendants as they walked by...'Katie, Emma, Aaron, Arik, and Josephine...' His mind produced as they passed him...
His knee was bouncing up and down.
Three and a half years of flying between countries and cities and he still couldn't stay seated without music to distract him or fidgeting.
It was a habit that betrayed his nature, though.
Mike didn't like staying in one place for longer then necessary if he could help it. It was why he'd been to fifty-three different countries in the forty-two months he'd been abroad; he needed to be exploring, doing something, active.
But finally, he had gotten bored with always waking up in a new hotel room and had decided to return to New York to do what he'd always wanted: start his own firm, maybe with a business partner, and put the bad memories behind him, because the trips to exotic countries hadn't helped.
It had only made the empty, gaping hole in his chest from his Pack ache all the more fierce, to the point where sometimes he'd had trouble breathing.
The plane jerking as it hit the tarmac threw him out of his reverie and he gripped the arm rests reflexively as the stewardess' chipper voice filled the cabin.
"We have now arrived at JFK Airport. Local time is 11:42. If you are continuing with us to Chicago please exit the aircraft with all other passengers, we'll reboard in approximately an hour. Please keep your seatbelt fastened until we have stopped moving completely. Thank you for flying United, we hope you fly with us again soon."
Nope, Mike thought to himself as he squirmed in his seat. Even in first class he didn't have room for his obnoxiously long legs. However, United had been the first flight out of London that had arrived back in New York at a time that was outrageous.
New York City. Home. It WAS still home, since Grammy still lived here. The first thing he was going to do once he got off this plane was visit her.
...Make that second. He had to check into his hotel first.
XxxxxxxxxX
It took a little less then a hour and a half for Mike to get situated in his hotel ro-suite, unpack the basics, take a shower, and get ready to go see Grammy.
Running a hand through his hair (it's called ARTFULLY MUSSED, thank you very much), he looked across the suite. Everything was organized and in place except for the suitcase that was laying on the floor, open and with a few of his oldest clothes curling out of the sides.
He can take care of that later, along with the hundred thousand other things to do-find an apartment, get things out of storage, find a half-way decent coffee shop, settle Grammy into a nice home close to wherever he finds an apartment, do laundry-so he shut that part of his mind off, grabbed the messenger bag he picked up in France, slid his shoes on, and gently closed the suite door behind him.
xxxxxxxxxx
Mike was waylaid in the lobby.
"Excuse me, Mr Ross?" A female voice called after him, and he turned around to come face-to-face with a strawberry-blonde female with the brightest emerald eyes he'd ever seen walking across the lobby to him. She was wearing a stunning yet casual purple halter dress and she didn't falter in her white heels.
"Yes?" He said, lost for other words.
"Rika Heather," She introduced herself, grabbing his hand from his side and shaking it. "We spoke on the phone?"
"Heath-oh, of course. Right. Didn't we agree to meet at 8 tonight?" He raised an eyebrow as he stole his hand back.
Her eyes glittered. "That we did. I was here for other business and thought I'd introduce myself," She smiled as if she knew a secret he didn't, and moved to step away-towards the bar, Mike noticed. "Have a lovely visit with your grandmother, Mike."
He didn't even want to know how she knew where he was going. Women like that scared him.
Pushing those thoughts out of his mind, Mike continued out of the hotel, pushing the glass doors open. As they swung shut, a taxi pulling up to the curb for him, he caught the gold writing emblazoned on the doors.
THE LAVENDER
Heather Hotels
He filed that information away to think about after seven, and slid in the back of the cab.
"Nortington Senior Home, please. Fast as possible."
XxxxxxxxxX
(MORE) AUTHOR NOTES
• This fic came about because I wanted a successful Mike BEFORE he meets Harvey and an excuse to have all the Pearson-Hardman employees living in the same apartment building/apartment. The latter was brought on by an image of Donna nagging Harvey in short-shorts and an extra-extra-large tee over eggs and bacon. IDEK. My brain's weird like that.
• You have two options for chapter two; a) we continue with Mike's storyline (and meet Grammy!) or b) we meet the Specter Pack. Let me know which one you want. If you don't choose, I will.
• The fictional hotel Mike's staying at looks like, in my mind, if the St Regis New York and Waldorf Astoria had a baby hotel.
• Yes, Mikey still has his "European Shoulder Bag". I can't imagine him without it. But that may be because I have an unhealthy attachment to mine.
• I'm not sure if any actual ages are ever mentioned in the show, but for the purposes of this fic Mike is 28, Harvey is 39, Louis is 42, Jessica is 47, Rachel is 26, and Donna's 36.
• In case it wasn't clear, Mike has a substantial bank account in this fic. He didn't have money before Harvard, but we'll get into that later.
• Rika's like a less scary Donna who runs her own business.
Familial Bond Units-four or more people that live in a cohesive family unit who aren't necessarily blood-related. Most everyone calls them Packs, though.
Micheal Ross never thought he'd be part of a Pack again after his previous one perished. He assumed he'd be a Loner for the rest of his life. That is, until he meets Rachel Zane and, by extension, her sinfully hot Pack leader.
(Or, the one where Mike graduates from Harvard, passes the bar, and spends three and a half years traveling the world with a fraction of his paternal grandparents' money only to come back to New York lost and lonely and in need of a home.)
XxxxxxxxxX
AUTHOR NOTES
• This is a story told in pieces both long and short and occasionally medium-sized, as well.
• I know nothing of lawyer logistics and crime law and procedures except that which I've picked up from Suits and the other 20+ criminal justice shows I watch.
• Which is admittedly not that much, since mostly I just gawk at the hot men on screen and devise mental fanfiction to have them sleep with one another.
• This is my first Suits fanfiction. Constructive criticism is welcomed, but be nice about it, please.
• This is an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE story. That means the characters will be slightly different from their onscreen personas, so please don't get all huffy at me because I HAVE NOW WARNED YOU.
• This story contains slash, femslash, and a few OCs. Again, I HAVE WARNED YOU.
• The pairings I've (so far) decided on are: Mike/Harvey, Donna/Rachel, and some OFC/OMC later down the road (it won't be showcased that much). There may be more in the future.
• Story and chapter titles are taken from lyrics of whatever song I'm listening to when I start one. Brownie points to those who get the chapter titles and potentially a fic request from the first person to guess the story's.
XxxxxxxxxX
More then the Typical Kind of Thing
by thehyperactivesammich
One: (Get No) Satisfaction
"Ladies and gentlemen, we will be arriving at JFK in approximately twenty-five minutes. If you could please turn off all electronics and stow away your carry-ons in their proper positions. Trayback tables and seats should be..."
The sound of the stewardess' voice droned off as Mike turned off his iPod and shoved it in his backpack stowed under the seat in front of him. He turned to look at the flight attendants as they walked by...'Katie, Emma, Aaron, Arik, and Josephine...' His mind produced as they passed him...
His knee was bouncing up and down.
Three and a half years of flying between countries and cities and he still couldn't stay seated without music to distract him or fidgeting.
It was a habit that betrayed his nature, though.
Mike didn't like staying in one place for longer then necessary if he could help it. It was why he'd been to fifty-three different countries in the forty-two months he'd been abroad; he needed to be exploring, doing something, active.
But finally, he had gotten bored with always waking up in a new hotel room and had decided to return to New York to do what he'd always wanted: start his own firm, maybe with a business partner, and put the bad memories behind him, because the trips to exotic countries hadn't helped.
It had only made the empty, gaping hole in his chest from his Pack ache all the more fierce, to the point where sometimes he'd had trouble breathing.
The plane jerking as it hit the tarmac threw him out of his reverie and he gripped the arm rests reflexively as the stewardess' chipper voice filled the cabin.
"We have now arrived at JFK Airport. Local time is 11:42. If you are continuing with us to Chicago please exit the aircraft with all other passengers, we'll reboard in approximately an hour. Please keep your seatbelt fastened until we have stopped moving completely. Thank you for flying United, we hope you fly with us again soon."
Nope, Mike thought to himself as he squirmed in his seat. Even in first class he didn't have room for his obnoxiously long legs. However, United had been the first flight out of London that had arrived back in New York at a time that was outrageous.
New York City. Home. It WAS still home, since Grammy still lived here. The first thing he was going to do once he got off this plane was visit her.
...Make that second. He had to check into his hotel first.
XxxxxxxxxX
It took a little less then a hour and a half for Mike to get situated in his hotel ro-suite, unpack the basics, take a shower, and get ready to go see Grammy.
Running a hand through his hair (it's called ARTFULLY MUSSED, thank you very much), he looked across the suite. Everything was organized and in place except for the suitcase that was laying on the floor, open and with a few of his oldest clothes curling out of the sides.
He can take care of that later, along with the hundred thousand other things to do-find an apartment, get things out of storage, find a half-way decent coffee shop, settle Grammy into a nice home close to wherever he finds an apartment, do laundry-so he shut that part of his mind off, grabbed the messenger bag he picked up in France, slid his shoes on, and gently closed the suite door behind him.
xxxxxxxxxx
Mike was waylaid in the lobby.
"Excuse me, Mr Ross?" A female voice called after him, and he turned around to come face-to-face with a strawberry-blonde female with the brightest emerald eyes he'd ever seen walking across the lobby to him. She was wearing a stunning yet casual purple halter dress and she didn't falter in her white heels.
"Yes?" He said, lost for other words.
"Rika Heather," She introduced herself, grabbing his hand from his side and shaking it. "We spoke on the phone?"
"Heath-oh, of course. Right. Didn't we agree to meet at 8 tonight?" He raised an eyebrow as he stole his hand back.
Her eyes glittered. "That we did. I was here for other business and thought I'd introduce myself," She smiled as if she knew a secret he didn't, and moved to step away-towards the bar, Mike noticed. "Have a lovely visit with your grandmother, Mike."
He didn't even want to know how she knew where he was going. Women like that scared him.
Pushing those thoughts out of his mind, Mike continued out of the hotel, pushing the glass doors open. As they swung shut, a taxi pulling up to the curb for him, he caught the gold writing emblazoned on the doors.
THE LAVENDER
Heather Hotels
He filed that information away to think about after seven, and slid in the back of the cab.
"Nortington Senior Home, please. Fast as possible."
XxxxxxxxxX
(MORE) AUTHOR NOTES
• This fic came about because I wanted a successful Mike BEFORE he meets Harvey and an excuse to have all the Pearson-Hardman employees living in the same apartment building/apartment. The latter was brought on by an image of Donna nagging Harvey in short-shorts and an extra-extra-large tee over eggs and bacon. IDEK. My brain's weird like that.
• You have two options for chapter two; a) we continue with Mike's storyline (and meet Grammy!) or b) we meet the Specter Pack. Let me know which one you want. If you don't choose, I will.
• The fictional hotel Mike's staying at looks like, in my mind, if the St Regis New York and Waldorf Astoria had a baby hotel.
• Yes, Mikey still has his "European Shoulder Bag". I can't imagine him without it. But that may be because I have an unhealthy attachment to mine.
• I'm not sure if any actual ages are ever mentioned in the show, but for the purposes of this fic Mike is 28, Harvey is 39, Louis is 42, Jessica is 47, Rachel is 26, and Donna's 36.
• In case it wasn't clear, Mike has a substantial bank account in this fic. He didn't have money before Harvard, but we'll get into that later.
• Rika's like a less scary Donna who runs her own business.