Nov 11, 2011 15:16
prompt me,
genre: slash,
fandom: criminal minds,
genre: total au,
pairing: michael/adam milligan,
fandom: supernatural,
genre: crossover,
activity: meme,
fandom: suits,
fandom: multiple,
fandom: percy jackson,
pairing: harvey specter/mike ross,
genre: canon/minor au,
pairing: lucifer/sam winchester,
pairing: castiel/dean winchester,
word count: 1000-4999,
life: birthdays,
fandom: rpf/rps,
word count: 100-999,
life: hello,
fanfiction: oneshot,
fanfiction,
pairing: jake abel/logan lerman
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Donna’s tower is barely out of sight when Mike says, “Duuuude,” with a shake of his fair head.
Harvey frowns at the younger prince and kicks his heels into Ray’s sides, propelling his noble steed into a trot Mike’s pathetic mare, Bike, who looks more like a donkey than anything, can never hope to keep up with.
“What have I told you about uncouth language, Mike?” Harvey inquires patronizingly, once he’s a good distance ahead. “As hard as it is to believe, you are nobility, even royalty. Can you act like it?”
Mike only huffs. “What’s more lame, Harvey: me saying ‘dude’ or you having to rely on your fairy godmother’s help to beat a dragon? And his name was Louis, for King Arthur’s sake. Can there be a name less imposing than that? Maybe Harold?”
Harvey shoots him a black, blasphemed glare. “Nowhere in Prince Charming’s Book of Etiquette does it explicate that my employment of Jessica’s powers is an instance worthy of dishonor,” he grits out, hurriedly adding, “And besides, I didn’t see you jumping in to help when Louis had me cornered,” before Mike can actually start reciting passages verbatim from the book. That shuts the younger prince up. While victory still courses warm and heady through his veins, Harvey continues, “I can’t wait to dump your ass back in Ross Kingdom. You’re utterly useless.”
Mike doesn’t say anything; he tucks his eyes down to the path Bike’s hooves tread and seems to lose himself in counting each imprint left behind, the flush of his face an amalgam of hurt and embarrassment. Good, Harvey tells himself firmly.
Ever since they met, Mike has been chattier than a Sphinx with a riddle. In fact, Harvey can only recall two times when he was able to look upon the younger prince’s face in peace, to casually observe him the way Harvey likes to observe everyone: when Queen Nana first showed him a portrait of her missing grandson, which was inanimate, and after Harvey defeated the Wizard Trevor, who had kept said prince under a sleeping spell using one of the more popular potions in the black market. Mike had appeared serene then, gold lashes a shade paler than his hair resting against his ivory cheeks. Harvey hadn’t even minded kissing him, though his services were generally reserved for princesses and other fair maidens. But the second he had, bright blue eyes and a huge mouth had opened up, likely never to shut again.
So Harvey is happy now. He is. He can immerse himself in the beauty, the tranquility, of the panorama around him, of endlessly green pastures and skies the same color as Mike’s eyes. He isn’t the least bit bored; he can journey in nature’s quiet lull, happily ever after.
He’s still quite relieved when an inn pulls into view, a homey cottage with a smoke-stacked roof. “Let’s stop for the night,” he tells Mike, who nods politely and obliges, mimicking Harvey and guiding Bike into an otherwise empty stall. Harvey wants to tease that no one would steal Mike’s decrepit, sagging old horse, anyway, but the frown Mike wears puts him off. He doesn’t miss their easy banter. Really.
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A/N: TBC because of the terrible character limit.
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The innkeeper is a beautiful woman with sable hair and eyes, Rachel, but Harvey tones his customary flirtations down and instead observes Mike smiling at her, because as upset as he apparently is, Mike is more friendly than a bloodhound puppy. The dialogue over food that the young pair shares vaguely annoys the older prince, but only because it’s immature to whine how you hate or love this and that. Food is food.
Finally, their stilted dinner - which might have been less so, had Harvey not glared pointedly around the small table - ends and Rachel leads them to the deeper recesses of the inn, where the guest rooms are.
“We’ll be sharing,” Mike says, before Harvey can speak. Rachel and Harvey’s matching looks of shock raise another blush out of him. “T-that is, uh, one room, not a bed.”
“Whatever you say, your majesty,” Rachel replies with a knowing smirk, proffering a key to Mike.
“I like her,” Harvey says, once she retreats back to her own chambers.
Mike glowers at him and stalks into their room. He’s already undressed, under the covers and turned away before Harvey even has expensive dragon hide boots off his feet. Harvey forces himself to shrug it off and does the same.
It’s not long after that when Mike suddenly murmurs, “I’m sorry.”
“What?” Harvey asks, surprised.
Mike props himself up on his elbows. His blue eyes are still vivid and shiny in the moonlight. “I’m sorry you think I ran away. I didn’t. I went to get your arrows from Ray’s saddle and some dragonbane. I noticed it growing outside when we were riding up. By the time I picked it, mashed it into paste for the arrows and got back, though, Jessica had already done her thing. You didn't need me anymore.”
“That's...very observant,” Harvey comments, for lack of anything better to say. He prides himself on being the best prince to graduate from the royal institute namely because he has wisdom beyond his years and the patience to take notes before he throws himself into the fray. It's not immodesty; his professors have told him so.
Mike smirks, perceptible in the darkness. “I’m sorry you failed to notice how awesome I am. Better luck next time.” He rolls back around and pulls his blankets above his head.
Harvey can hear Mike's muffled chuckles, boyish as school chimes, as he himself festers. For all his contemplative nature, however, he has still been dubbed a knight, and there's always a breaking point where inaction is failed action. Harvey and failure suit each other like white armor after Labor Day - or ever, because it's too bombastic, even Rene will tell you - so he slips out of bed with his own cocky leer.
He doesn't need a fairy - needs nothing but Mike's challenging, accepting laugh - to make this particular wish come true.
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A/N: This got all weird halfway through me writing it, so I hope it's not terribly off base. Thank you again for being wonderful, bb. ♥
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