round five prompt post - CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS
ROUND FIVE IS CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS!
Round Six will open on Thursday, June 14th.
The Holiday Round has been posted here. Please use that any holiday prompts.
IMPORTANT: Please don't forget to warn for any triggers (these can be found in the Rules post), better to warn when in doubt. If a prompt is not warned for triggers and contains them, it ( Read more... )
“You do realize they want to see me, right?” Mike says. “I’m the movie star. You’re the one who didn’t want any press.”
“That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t look good if I get it,” Harvey says. “I’m the one who taught you that, plebe.”
His eyes do an admiring trawl up Mike’s body, and then he reaches for Mike’s tie. Mike probably should be paying Rene better.
“Mmm,” Mike says. “Not right now. We’re almost there.”
“I’m just fixing it,” Harvey says, and Mike lets him. Harvey’s fingers against his neck are familiar, scuffed with the fine lines of papercuts.
“Now, are you sure you’re ready for this?” Mike asks.
“Ready?” Harvey scoffs. “You’re the one who’s going to win or lose an Oscar.”
“There will be flashbulbs,” he says.
Harvey had, once, punched a paparazzo who caught them in Chinatown.
“And I will be on my best behavior,” Harvey says. “Because I know after you win I’ll be the one debauching you. And only me.”
“You don’t think we could get Brad and Angie in on this action?” Mike asks. “Or--ah--who’s someone hot? Clooney? Zoe Saldana? I think Knightley has a nom.”
“Only if Brad shaves his face,” Harvey says, leaning forward a little. “But really, I don’t like sharing.”
His voice is low and husky and sends a small thrill running up Mike’s spine. Because, really, this is his, he’ll be the one debauching Harvey Specter tonight, whether as an Oscar winner or not.
“You really think I’ll win?” he asks, because they don’t really do the thing where they talk about what they mean to one another or whatever. Mostly they just live hickeys on patches of exposed skin.
“You’re playing a bookseller,” Harvey says. “And you learned from the best. If you don’t win the Academy has their collective heads up their collective asses.”
“Which they might,” Mike says, and Harvey hushes him with a glance, and then with his mouth.
“We’re almost there,” Ray calls from the front. “We actually are there.”
And Mike holds up one hand, like that will do any good at all, but he wants to acknowledge that he heard, and it will just be a moment until he disentangles himself from Harvey. Or maybe the other way around. Harvey tastes like himself, and smells faintly of the cologne Donna told Mike to get him for Christmas, and really, this is good, this is right, this is what Harvey needs to tumble out of the limo and not feel like an upstart or a freak, but like a person who deserves to be here and does, after all, have the best bookseller in New York (possibly the world) on his arm. And afterwards, they’ll go home together, no questions asked.
Harvey pulls away, and then reaches forward to adjust Mike’s tie again.
“There,” he says. “Perfect.”
They stumble out. There are flashbulbs and people with microphones, but mostly there’s Harvey’s hand on the small of Mike’s back, guiding him forward.
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And this: 'Harvey had, once, punched a paparazzo who caught them in Chinatown.'
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I have to admit: I kind of doubt there will be further excerpts. I added the epilogue because it made sense (to me) as a closer, but with very few exceptions I tend not to return to my fics. Um. Which is maybe a bad habit, I don't know. I like to leave a few loose ends. But there is a good chance that you'll be seeing more Suits fic from me in the future, if that helps at all (:
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